Necromancy 101
by Lord Diago
Summary: Follow the adventures of a gentlemanly Necromancer as he struggles with his worklife as a servant of Mannimarco, blashemer against Arkay etc... and writing a textbook for the young-uns!
1. The Silence Of The Vamp

_Be forewarned, gentle reader, that Necromancy is both a science and an art, involving the mundane and arcane, and as much Alchemy as Mysticism._

Aleximus paused, quill a millimeter above the parchment. Was that a good line? It got across the point, but seemed a bit too ..._flowery_, for his liking. This was not the first iteration for the opening of his book, and yet he was unsatisfied. So far he had written, on scraps of odd paper, and in no particular order, the skeletons of several informative chapters on his profession. Feeling oddly adventurous this morning, he had decided to take a stab at that old enemy of all authors: the task of writing an opening to a book that was only slightly embarrassing to the person writing it.

He hummed thoughtfully, and brought his hand up to adjust his spectacles. They were silver and wiry with smallish lenses, and rather thin glass. They also pinched the nose bridge a tad.

Not that the elderly gent's abilities in Restoration were insufficient to sharpen his eyesight when need be (perish the thought!). He had simply not bothered to take the spectacles off moving from his last experiment to his writing desk. Usually they only saw use during the anatomical studies, or when longer bouts of reading and writing were to be undertaken. In a delicate process like a surgery, or indeed, post-mortem, it simply didn't do for the spell you had cast for improving your vision to time out on you.

The sagely Breton proceeded to stroke his short, sharp silver beard, and sighed. Dissection was one thing. But writing...what an _ordeal_!

Clink. Squelch. Clink. Squelch.

Aleximus turned, grateful for an excuse to turn away from his writing.

The lich shuffled towards him, metal boot on one foot clinking as he stepped with it, and unshod foot making a moist squelch on every other step. 'Alex,' it rasped. 'the zombies have chained him up and sterilized most of the instruments.' 'Thanks, Max.' the old Breton replied. He had been looking forward to this! 'Let us begin immediately.' he continued with a faux professorial air. The lich made a little grimace, grinned and turned back. Aleximus got up from his sturdy, albeit moldy desk and proceeded with his lich towards a door.

Past the heavy hardwood doors and the cells lining either side of the ensuing corridor, various living beings languished as the two made their way past. The occupants were drugged and silent, for heterogeneous noise was unwelcome and did nothing to aid the concentration.

Imperial, Khajiit, Orc, Argonian...Aleximus could not help but smile a little proudly at his diverse captives. The chaps from the Blackwood Company were doing an excellent job in rounding up bandits and marauders for his studies. They were the ideal sort of specimen: fully grown, healthy, and missed by none.

Simple black robe billowing as he walked, he took little note of the cards tied to the bars of each cell. Though they were the worse for wear from the damp air of the fort, the scrawl of his Lich assistants was still readable. Race, age, poison used, wounds and diseases observed, if any (and in the case of the fresher specimens, wounds were not unlikely) etc, were reflected, and the specimens were adequately fed, if 'nourished' was a bit of a stretch.

Past the sedated victims the two emerged into a large open chamber with two doors on the north and east walls respectively. The tables and chairs from the days of its use as a canteen had been long cleared away, and a single long table placed at the extreme west side. In the middle was a large cell, replete with shackles and chains. Normally the cell would be empty. Two days ago, however, the Blackwood Company had once again managed to procure a very special item, the containment of which was the sole purpose of the reinforced steel cage.

It had taken the mercenaries weeks to acquire, and had come the cost of several employees.

Aleximus smiled at the sight of the rabid vampire which was currently roaring and thrashing about, trying futilely to snap the thick iron chains around his wrists. Two unarmed skeletons stood at either side of the cell's gate.

On the table stood the standard array of Alchemical apparatus; calcinator, alembic, mortar and pestle, retort...With them, however, where other apparatus not usually seen in the average fort. Miniature vats, air-tight cases, pressurized containers, syringes and needles of various sizes, scalpels, shears...

A zombie stood to attention at the side of the table, an empty and rather large brass syringe in hand. The embers visible in the small brass bowl near it and the dull red glow of the syringe's tip indicated that the zombie had recently heated and sterilized it. It was not to protect the vampire from infection, for vampires were immune to diseases, and Aleximus was not planning to keep the vampire for very long afterwards anyway.

The Necromancer gave a conspicuous nod to his undead assistants.

One of the skeletons opened the gate with a heavy key, and the zombie stepped forward. The Lich threw a ball of green light at the vampire, whose roars were Silenced nigh-instantaneously. Reaching the vampire, the zombie thrust the syringe into the vampire's right thigh, and pulled back on the syringe handle.

The zombie had been lucky on his first go, and the needle had reached an artery. After a few seconds the zombie pulled the syringe out and turned around.

Aleximus gave another nod. The skeletons moved away from the cell and the Lich waited for the zombie to get clear before firing a single fireball at the vampire. It burst into flames extremely readily and in short order all that remained of the vampire were the silver and black ashes on the ground. The lack of any sort of scream due to the spell would have disconcerted the uninitiated.

The Lich waved one of its hands, and the vampire ashes floated off the ground and into an open cylinder on the table. The lid of the cylinder slammed shut as the last speck of ash fell into it.

Aleximus took the brass syringe from the zombie and emptied a quarter of its contents into an open vat. He lightly heated the blood, and after a few minutes poured some purified nightshade poison. Acting as an anti-coagulant the poison prevented the blood from clotting prematurely. He stirred the mixture periodically with a glass rod.

Finally, he took the small vat off the heat and poured it into a beaker. He called over the same Lich who had killed the vampire and gave it instructions to take a needle and inject some of the prepared blood into an Argonian captive. This was a way of 'farming' the disease that caused vampirism without compromising a specimen, as the Argonian would probably not be turned into a vampire nearly as quickly as a person of another race, save perhaps Altmer.

Regardless, Altmer specimens were harder to come by. Meanwhile, every other marauder archer was an Argonian. The Lich nodded and shuffled off.

Aleximus pondered. Either he could return to writing that text for young Necromancers, or he could prepare a corpse reanimation. The remaining vampire blood was stored cold, and similarly prepared against coagulation, though even in such a state blood does not last long. He walked towards the eastern doorway of this central chamber, deciding that he had to start corpse preparation after he had come back. He had little time left to himself for today, and would have to be off for the city in a matter of hours. There was only one option for the Breton gent, it seemed. In typical Breton fashion, he sighed.

Writing really was tiresome.

Author's note:

This story was not meant to have gone past this first chapter. As such there are certain minor plot holes I would like to clean up. Some notes on this chapter:

I made the lich and necromancer seem to be on more familiar terms. Instead of calling Alex 'master', he-obviously- now calls him by name, and a shortened version at that. I see their relationship as being more colleague-ish.

I changed Alex's glasses to a pair of typical pince-nez, rather than the original Dwemer eye-device which he supposedly built himself. It felt too random in hindsight. Not everything has to be built by the actual user just because it's in a medieval setting. Besides, it is strange to expect him to be able to make such a thing anyway. Where would he have learnt it?

Most importantly, I have stated explicitly that Alex is to go to the city right in the first chapter, instead of having him wander off to it in chapter two for no apparent reason, because I decided to continue the story.

I have sorted out the layout of the fort, and have built it into this chapter, and will be doing it more in chapter two.

I am going back to the old chapters because it is just as important to tidy them up as it is to write the new ones as I really want to make this story work well. It is all plotted out, and I hope you will stay on for the ride, dear reader.

Finally, I would like to say that the shortest, most throw-away comment you could possibly make on the story will make me squeal when I open my inbox. Just saying.


	2. Follow the Red Ring Road

East of the main chamber in which yet another vampire had met its end in the name of science, Aleximus strode on through another oaken door, which had been left open. A long corridor followed, and was lit by torches and braziers. The first door on the right the genteel necromancer walked right past, as it led to a chamber that functioned as secondary study, library and cynosure. Eventually he came to a small gated room midway between the main door of the fort and the aforementioned chamber. The tiny room contained two antique closets filled with clothes befitting Aleximus' social rank, or at least the rank occupied before he became a necromancer. A very small number of clothes from High Rock remained over the years in any state to be worn, after age, moths and mildew had had at them. These were shunted off to a side, as though kept for sentimental value only. The rest, which he could actually wear out of the fort and into inhabited areas, were acquired through…various channels.

Pulling off his black robe and dumping it into the laundry basket, he rummaged through the clothes in the closets, finally settling on dark brown pants, a long-sleeved white shirt, a tan vest with edges done in gold thread and a dark brown suit jacket. He finished the look with a slightly worn black tie.

Praise the Nine for Agamir, Aleximus thought amusedly. Some poor sod-pun intended-was lying rather more exposed in the…sod. At least, he assumed they were put back in after. Then again, who knew? Maybe some nervous young prentice mage, dabbling in the forbidden arts, would give his lunch money to a grave robber to have the leftover de-accessorized body. …Amateurs…Aleximus would have to give some tips on the subject of corpse acquisition in his handbook.

Satisfied with his look, which he appraised through the use of a full length mirror, more than one quarter of which was gone, and which was desperately dusty, truth be told, he left his spectacles on the tiny coffee table just by the fort's entrance. He pulled open the heavy wooden doors just enough to slip through, rather than slip a disc, and stepped outside.

The sun was already beginning to gather strength in the late morning, though it was still cool outside. The grounds of the fort were barren but for patches or hardy grass and small wildflowers. Vegetation within the dilapidated walls was mostly concentrated in the humble vegetable garden, where the sagely Breton grew cabbages, potatoes and the most gorgeous squashes.

Fort Phalanx consisted of three stories of crumbling off-white masonry, with an outer wall much restored by zombie labor. Skeleton archers patrolled tirelessly on the upper floors, and had sufficient gaps to shoot through. Headless zombies wandered around in mockery of guard dogs. If it came to it, Aleximus had built up a corps (ha) of minions large enough to repel a small contingent of guards. The proportionally high number of liches would also be a powerful defense. This attitude was a hold-over from the days of 'necromancering' in High Rock, where peasants with pitchforks could get nasty.

The ancient well from which the Imperial soldiers, and now one necromancer, drew water still functioned, and was out back, and shielded within a still-standing stone tower. Understandably so, as a well was a precious resource in a siege, and produced a liquid that tasted better than horse blood, that mainstay of besieged soldiers and nobles.

Briefly pausing to admire the moons, which were still just visible in the late morning sky, he set off, and cast a Frost Shield and Restore Fatigue spell on himself as he walked. A sweat would be worked up, make no mistake, though his formidable Restoration skill would see him make good time. Powerful magic was required for him to make the trip on foot, and jogging from his fort to the main road would have seen the end of him without it.

Imagining that a triangle was drawn on the map with the Imperial City, Skingrad and Chorrol as its points, one would find Fort Phalanx almost smack-dab in the centre of it. Rather a bit close to the shrine of Molag Bal. Greater distance from Hackdirt would also have been nice. However, it was a choice location when you considered that it was fairly easy to get to the Red Ring Road if one went due east. There were no dangerous bandit camps and such between the fort and the road, and the Reman rune stone was a useful landmark, roughly marking the half-way point. From the busy Ring Road it was a small matter of hitching a ride on some caravan to Weye, where one was but a bridge away from the Imperial City, and a carriage ride away from Skingrad or Chorrol.

Aleximus was a disciplined caster, with much practice, and kept up a low grade Frost Shield for the three hours of trekking through the forest that it would take to hit the main road. It was actually very close to the fort, really, and it was a wonder that a fortress held by undead horrors was not stumbled upon by wanderers more often.

He reached the roads at last, after several hours of travel by foot. Had he travelled in the direction of Chorrol or Skingrad he would have hit some small settlements, but there were none between him and the Imperial City but Weye. Really, if he had to do this more often he would have definitely invested in a horse. But then again, a horse needs food and exercise, and live animals were not his specialty- very high maintenance, comparatively. Between the veggie patch and the deliveries by courier he had plenty of food, and thus did not rely on grocery trips to the Imperial City to get by. Necromancer couriers delivered food from either Weye or Odiil farm usually. The old Breton was a good tipper from force of habit.

Once he reached the roads though it would only be a matter of time before a merchant caravan or carriage could be waved over and persuaded to carry him, an elderly gent, the rest of the way to Weye and the Imperial City, which would not be far away.

Nearing the cobblestone road though, Aleximus heard some rather strange noises, and saw quite a sight through the trees.

Aleximus was about to break the tree line and begin to go down the grassy slope to the paved road when he saw what had been making the odd sounds he had heard just now. An Imperial Legion soldier was struggling with a spriggan and her bear.

With a cry he slashed at the bear horizontally, cutting its jaw open. As the bear faded away the spriggan finally approached the panting soldier. Its hands glowed red.

The soldier saw the man in the brown clothes approaching, and tried to shout a warning to stay back, but the spriggan had used the distraction to Drain the last of his strength. Crumpling to the ground the Imperial raised his head just in time to see the spriggan glow brightly green, and stop in its tracks. The other man stepped towards. 'Marvelous,' the soldier heard him say, rather in awe. 'Not a scratch!'

The young soldier got up, and began to thank Aleximus. The Breton gent looked oddly at him, and the soldier did not like the appraising gleam in his eyes as he looked up and down the road they were on. Aleximus was nervous. Would he actually dare…Aleximus was weighing his options. The Legionnaire seemed very young, and so would probably be new to patrolling. If he was taken, his superiors would just assume some bandits got him, surely? This would be an unprecedented capture! He had been acquiring subjects exclusively through the Blackwood company for years now. And yet…it was such a perfect opportunity!

The young man seemed about to say something when he too felt the stopping power of Aleximus' Paralysis spell. 'Two birds with one stone!' the Breton exclaimed happily. He waved his hands oddly, and a swirl of purple light appeared a few feet away from the two men, vomiting black smoke as it did so. This scrap of arcane ability had been passed on to him by a Dunmer years past-the mages of Morrowind must be second in their knowledge of magical transportation only to the Sload. It had been banned in the Imperial Province, and Alecimus had only seen it used in Mage's guild halls, and the Arcane University. He had used the spell before, but never for this purpose, for its range was rather limited, and Aleximus was too cautious to take people from off a road. Before now, it seemed.

It was alright, though. The road was clear. They would assume an ambush by bandits, or a bear attack, or whatever other thing that formed part of the patrolling Legionnaire's hazards.

A lich and two skeletons stepped out of the maelstrom. The portal to Fort Phalanx remained open.

'Please take our guests to cells three and ten respectively,' he said, gesturing to the soldier and the spriggan, 'and mind you don't damage the spriggan. I want her root system completely intact, and they're very delicate. And remove the other one's armour and weapons before you put him in the cell, will you? I don't want a repeat of the _fiasco_ we had last year.' The necromancer muttered darkly. Three skeletons destroyed before a lich thought of Paralyzing the prisoner. Aleximus shook his head. He had of course simply raised the skeletons again afterwards, but _still_…'Yes, yes…' The lich said, before growling at the skeletons. Each one grabbed a captive and dragged them through the portal.

The necromancer was trembling slightly. Had he really just whisked away an actual soldier? Not just some bandit, captured by a third party, or a corpse stolen from some poor man's grave, but a living person? Gods, how many years had it been? Yet…a spriggan would be a wonderful captive, and would prove alchemically useful. And the guard was weakened by battle, alone on the road…While purely opportunistic and thus out of character for the sagely Necromancer, Aleximus reflected that there was no danger of reprisal. The guard was even now probably being dragged into a cell, and that would be the last anyone would hear of him.

Unexpectedly, Aleximus felt himself give a little shudder. Was it because it was a shockingly bold act? Or perhaps because this was the first time he would be causing the death of someone who was not a criminal? For other necromancers this would have been downright blasé, but Aleximus was of uncommon sensitivity. In his heart he wondered if he would wipe the guard's memory and have a courier dump him on the roads later on, when he was back from the Big City.

Aleximus was standing in the middle of the road, sat down for a while. Creating the portal had taken much out of him, for he was no Sload or Dunmer sorcerer, and was not very well practiced with it. Still, it had proven it's usefulness, and he felt smug about having this bit of arcane knowledge. He glanced at his watch, and discovered that it had only been about ten minutes before he turned his head after hearing the clip-clop of hooves. Not unexpected, for wagons would be very common on the roads to the City. A merchant caravan of wagons was coming down towards him at a steady pace. From Cheydinhal, most likely, as the drivers were Dunmer. He would need to take a look at the goods, or listen for their accents, to determine if they were from Morrowind itself. He smoothed down his shirt, and switched off the spells. He waved at the Dunmer guiding the horses. The Dunmer waved back.

Author's Note

So I shifted the second half of this story, but with the additions it is still longer than the original. Gosh, they're really too short.

So anyway in this chapter I refined Aleximus' response to the kidnapping, and removed mention of the mind-reading ability. That was to play a part in the story, but that aspect has been scrapped.

Thought I would clear up exactly how an old man in a suit could conceivably walk to the Imperial City. First of all, Cyrodiil isn't actually too large, and if you make a triangle with Chorrol, Skingrad and the Imperial City you will find that it is no great distance to the main road, where one could catch a ride. With the help of spells, it is more easily conceivable. I might have made him own a horse but that would be too complicated I think, for he lives alone and would probably pay a courier to travel and do things for him most of the time.

I expanded description of his methods of getting food and water all the way out in the wilderness, as well as the fort itself.

Update soon!

PS pardon the mix of American and British spelling. I have yielded to Microsoft Word somewhat, but other times I have a bit more spine.


	3. Chapter 3

'Go to my bedroom and open the closet on the left. At the bottom is a large drawer. Open that and take out one of the bottles. Bring it back here tonight at...seven o'clock.' Aleximus said the words slowly and carefully. He hoped the zombie didn't smash the bottle as he gripped it. They usually broke any equipment that wasn't made of metal. The zombie shuffled through the portal again, and Aleximus closed it behind him.

**********

'It's ok. The guards never come by here.' Shady Sam said. Glancing around with Detect Life just in case, Aleximus proceeded with the details.

'Have you got the all ingredients on you right now? I can get some from the City if you don't.' Aleximus offered.

'Nah I got them. Hard to find though, some of them. A couple I never even heard of before, had to get them from some supplier from Skyrim.' Shady Sam replied.

Aleximus nodded. He was aware of Shady Sam's excellent connections; he got all his ingredients from him. He handed over a small sheet of parchment, folded neatly across. 'Those are the instructions. Remember to use the exact amounts of each ingredient, because if it's too weak it won't last long enough, and if it's too strong it might make them suspect something.' Aleximus said. 'I want to make it look like they fell asleep.'

Shady Sam nodded. 'I burn everything when I'm finished?' Aleximus had ordered him to procure a several ingredients and equipment but told him to hold on to them rather than send them to the fort. Sam had guessed it was so everything could be destroyed on the spot when he was done.

'Yes.' Aleximus said. 'Leave no trace, in case they mount an investigation. If they think to test for tampering they'll realize what we did, and I don't fancy being tracked down.'

Shady Sam nodded. Aleximus pulled out of a pocket a cheque. 'You can claim your payment from this account at the Imperial Construction Bank.'

**********

His business with Shady Sam done Aleximus had finally entered the Imperial City. It was about eight, and he was eager to get as much done as he could. He also had some appointments to keep.

His first stop was at King and Queen's, where he reserved a table for day. He hadn't eaten breakfast yet, and was famished after his long walk to the City. He didn't like the idea of discovering that all the good places to eat at were already full. It was expensive but Aleximus preferred to have a table to himself and available whenever he needed it.

His first stop was the bank. He withdrew a few thousand septims worth of sovereigns. He hated carrying small change around.

Second was Calindil's store, Mystic Emporium. Aleximus filled out a large order for soul gems to be sent to an address on the waterfront, a weathered shack he had bought solely for the purpose of having an address to give to suppliers. It would not be wise to give out the location of Fort Phalanx.

Calindil was by now familiar with the man he thought must be a researcher at the Arcane University, and asked no questions.

Third was The Main Ingredient. It was the last Alchemy store in the city. Aleximus hoped it stocked Cyrodiilic Brandy, for he had not found it in the others. He was ecstatic to discover that the owner did, and told him to keep the change.

Fourth was the Feed Bag. He arranged for food to be sent to his Imperial City address. His supply at Fort Phalanx had finally begun to dwindle.

It was now three in the afternoon, and Aleximus was starving.

Returning to the King and Queen's Tavern he sat himself at the round wooden table and ordered some Surilie Brother's to drink, steak with mushrooms and black pepper and salad on the side and goat's milk yoghurt for desert.

Presently a tall Nord in a black shirt and tan pants walked in. Aleximus caught Agamir's eye, and the Nord walked over to his table. Aleximus called the waiter over and ordered a flask of mead for his friend.

'I got your letter. The goods are in my house if you want to look at them.' The Nord said. 'That won't be necessary. I trust you, Agamir!' Aleximus said lightly.

Agamir grinned and sipped from his flask.

**********

The bell tinkled as the door opened. Thoronir looked up at his latest customer. Aleximus walked over to the counter and looked down at the Wood Elf.

'Might you have any Khajiiti chocolates, by any chance?' the Necromancer inquired. 'Why of course! Spiced or plain?' the Bosmer replied happily.

'Oh, plain please. Do you also have any honey ones? They're my favourite.' Aleximus said. The Bosmer replied in the affirmative. He smiled. 'Wonderful! I'll take four boxes of the plain ones and three boxes of the honey ones, please.'

**********

Aleximus hurried along with all the dignity two handfuls of shopping bags allowed. He walked around the walls of the Imperial City before finally spotting Shady Sam.

'You moved!' he said accusingly. Shady Sam merely shrugged. 'It's ready.' He said, trying to change the subject. It worked.

Let me see it.' Aleximus commanded. Shady Sam handed over the small green phial. Aleximus opened it and peered inside. The poison was colourless. He wafted the scent into his nostrils. It was odourless. Just as it was supposed to be.

Aleximus pocketed the green glass phial and arranged for a shipment of various ingredients, tranquilizers and poisons.

Glancing down at his time-keeper he saw that it was very close to seven. He would have to hurry. If anyone saw that zombie...

**********

The zombie stepped out of the violet pillar of light, wine bottle in hand. Aleximus took it and dismissed the creature. As the zombie disappeared Aleximus once again thought about how convenient it could be if _he _could travel anywhere by magic.

Alas, as it stood he could only summon creatures from his home or the Soul Cairne to himself. He had however heard of mages in Morrowind being able to teleport to fixed locations.

Sighing, he turned to make his way to Wawnet Inn. As he turned, however, he saw a balding man staring at him, mouth open. Aleximus' heart skipped a beat.

The two men stood staring at each other for the briefest of moments. The man turned to run. Cursing, Aleximus brought his hand up and cast a Paralysis spell at him. The spell missed, hitting the ground near the man's foot.

Running after him Aleximus cast a large frost bolt at him. The frost spell surprised the man as it surrounded him, and he fell down. As he got up Aleximus' second Paralysis spell struck him in the back.

Aleximus caught up to him, and began to drag the man down to the shore of Lake Rumare, near where he had summoned the zombie.

He held the man's head and put it in the water. When the Paralysis spell wore off a few minutes later Aleximus released the man's body. It half-floated in the water, the man having drowned a minute ago.

_A tragic accident_, Aleximus thought to himself. _That's what happened here. _


	4. Chapter 4

Nerussa poked around in the fire, careful not to stir up too much ash, lest some of it got onto her dress.

She had found her old black dress at the bottom of her wardrobe, and had spent a good fifteen minutes in front of a mirror doing up her hair. She had tried different looks before settling on a tight bun not much different from the way she usually wore her hair.

At the sound of the wind heard only when someone opened the door she spun around breathlessly. He was back!

Aleximus smiled warmly at her. He raised the bottle of wine he was holding in his left hand up and shook it slightly. Nerussa giggled excitedly.

She invited him to sit at the round table closest to the counter; far enough to hide the view of dirty dishes but close enough to the fireplace to be snugly warm.

Aleximus set his shopping bags down at the side and put the bottle on the table. Nerussa offered to get the bottle-opener, but Aleximus dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. Pointing four fingers at the cork he cast a weak Telekinesis spell at it, and Nerussa wowed when it glowed magenta and shot out.

'I find the wine is best experienced when slightly cooler than room temperature.' Aleximus explained as his hands glowed light blue as he poured the wine out into the two wine glasses Nerussa had brought out.

The two clinked glasses and toasted wine itself before sipping.

Sweet and tangy. Like liquid candy, Nerussa thought. The grapes used were obviously of high quality.

Heady and woody. Like the smell of a coffin just dug up, Aleximus thought. The wine was no stranger to time.

'Ooh!' Nerussa exclaimed suddenly. Aleximus chuckled. 'I told you the Night-Eye was a shock. Oh, I've got it too, now!'

Nerussa went through the history of the wine, about how it was made especially for Imperial soldiers who had to keep watch on cold nights, when Aleximus asked her whether she though it fair to use Alchemy that way against less knowledgeable foes.

The two were engaging in a debate on ethics in warfare when a guard burst in. 'Someone's drowned!' he cried.

Aleximus' heart fluttered. _Damn._


	5. Chapter 5

The three ran to the scene, Aleximus secretly casting a Restore Fatigue spell on himself. Heaven knows he was not in his prime.

When they reached the shore line, a chill air was blowing in from the lake. The drenched corpse of the middle-aged Imperial was dragged part-way onto land. The guard had pulled the body up onto the shore to stop the water carrying it away.

Nerussa put her hand over her mouth and drew a sharp breath. Aleximus tried his best to look frightened.

The grim guard broke the silence. 'Do either of you recognize him? It would help the investigation if we could get a name or any particulars. Like family or known associates.' The guard added at the end.

Nerussa shook her head. 'I recognize him. He'd come over to the inn sometimes for breakfast, but I never caught his name. I think he lived alone. I never saw him with anyone.' She said slightly breathlessly. Aleximus hoped against hope that she was correct; he didn't want any relatives to come round asking questions.

'It looks like he _drowned _to me.' Aleximus said, all too aware of the high pitch of his speech. He wasn't used to this! He dug up bodies from churchyards! He didn't murder and lie to officials!

The guard looked at him oddly. Aleximus' heart raced. He calculated his options. It didn't look good. If he killed Nerussa, the guard would likely cut him down. If he killed the guard, Nerussa's screams would summon the others stationed at the city entrance.

Slowly, a plan formed in Aleximus' head. It was such a shame, he thought. Nerussa was a very nice mer.

As the guard stroked his chin, Aleximus struck.

A green orb of light launched out of each hand. The guard was Paralyzed. Nerussa was Silenced.

Turning to face the guard, Aleximus cast a powerful Damage Health spell. He wasn't taking any chances. The stunned Nerussa looked on as the Imperial crumpled to the ground, bones shattered.

Too late did the mer think to flee from the man she had not ten minutes ago considered a most wonderful gentleman. Aleximus turned just as she began to run. Heart aching, he fired a strong frost spell.

Her Aldmeri vulnerability to elemental magic ensured she died of cold almost instantaneously.

The spell had been a calculated one. Rather than burning or electrocuting the poor woman, Aleximus had sought to kill her in the quickest and most painless way possible. Unfortunately he couldn't have done the same with the guard. Not wanting to experience a nasty sword wound he had killed the man with one of his most powerful spells.

Pure necrosis of bone and tissue.

He conjured up a zombie. From the Soul Cairne this time, and not his fort. He instructed it to bring the bodies up to the inn. The zombie obeyed and began with Nerussa. Aleximus trudged sadly behind it.

**********

Aleximus was just finishing the last of his Shadowbanish wine. To think it had all started so well. He had arranged the matters he needed to arrange, including the very special poison for a very special..._client_?

Aleximus snorted. Somehow it was hard considering _her_ a _client_.

The bash of the door opening indicated to Aleximus that the zombie had finally brought the third body in. As soon as the corpse of the guard was set down Aleximus dismissed the creature and got up from his seat at the same table he had shared with Nerussa.

Closing the door of the inn behind him, he took one last sad stare at the Wawnet. He cast five fire spells at the roof. Satisfied the building would burn down by morning, he left for the Imperial City.

Aleximus would need a new hotel for the night.


	6. Chapter 6

The black bear threw itself against the rusty bars of the cell gate. The spriggan was hissing instructions to the bear, and seemed to be egging it on. For its part, the bear was either totally loyal to the spriggan or else miraculously inured against pain.

The Liches were getting quite desperate now.

As the poor bear broke its neck against the metal bars it faded away to wherever the spriggan had called it from, and the corridor was silent once more.

Squelch. Clink. Squelch. Clink.

Max paced restlessly before finally moving to inspect the bars. He was at a loss as to what to do. The bars weren't holding up well. Weakened by age the bear attacks were starting to bend them, and if the flakes of rust on the floor were any indication the spriggan was wearing them down, bear by bear.

If they didn't find a way to stop the spriggan from summoning bears, it would eventually break down the gate and escape. The spriggan would be laughably easy to kill, of course (Liches like Max had very decent Destruction spells up their blood-stained, moth-eaten sleeves...). However, Aleximus had quite clearly stated that he wanted the spriggan alive when he returned.

The spriggan hissed fiercely at the Lich, although it was smart enough not to get too close.

The Lich felt helpless. The attempt to Silence the spriggan with poisoned arrows had failed. The skeleton archer the Liches had brought over for the task had missed the first three shots (the spriggan was the furthest thing possible from a static target) and when an arrow finally reached its mark the Liches soon discovered that the Summon Bear spell, or whatever it was called, must have been a Power or something, because it was only a matter of minutes before the cursed _pot plant_ had summoned another.

The Lich pondered having the thing's hands lopped off. It needed them to cast spells, and Aleximus had expressed interest in the spriggan's _root systems_, not _limbs. _

**********

The bear faded away into nothingness, and Philip sighed. He had been hoping for a distraction, and could not think of any better than a bear and angry spriggan. They would have been spelled down in seconds, of course, but the young Imperial figured that that sort of distraction was about the best chance he had of escaping.

Philip had been planning his escape. Without his sword and clad only in rather loose clothes no doubt gotten off an unfortunate marauder or some such illegal it would be difficult to fight his way out. He would have to rely on his magickal skills. While his Destruction and Illusion skills were good, his Restoration ability was abysmal. If he was injured on his way out, and there seemed to be ample opportunity to be injured, he would be in trouble.

His second problem was that he had no idea where he was. He had been taken through a portal and could be anywhere, although his magickal studies had taught him that such portals were bound to a caster and could not extend very long distances. The young man hoped he would be able to find his way back to the Imperial City. It could not be a terribly long way off, wherever he was.

Philip's planning was presently interrupted by a rumbling of his stomach. He had not eaten since he was captured about a day and a half ago. The Liches had brought in food, of course, but he had his suspicions after having seen the state of some of the other prisoners.

A swirling sound and dull roar echoed two cells to the left of Philip. Fingers crossed.

**********

'Yes, please tell Miss Caranya that I'll be at the Tiber Septim for the night and next morning.' Aleximus said to Raminus Polus.

'Fine, I'll pass that along.' Raminus responded before returning to his book. Aleximus walked out of the Arch-Mage's Lobby, job done. He made his way back to the hotel and wondered how much a dinner there would cost.

If Augusta's room rates were anything to go by, the Necromancer figured he should be worried.

**********

_It is generally quite difficult to obtain corpses and skeletons. There are many methods to acquire either, and most carry peril. In this chapter I will attempt to provide some information on the various methods including province-specific information and the advantages and disadvantages of each._

_Consider grave-robbing. Due to the small-mindedness of most commoners, it is generally a crime to exhume corpses and skeletons for the purpose of reanimation. Said crime will probably carry a heavy punishment in whichever province you may be (though this is particularly true in Hammerfell, Morrowind and Highrock)._

_For instance, in my native Highrock the punishment for the so-called crime of exhumation is the death penalty, usually through hanging (which while unpleasant is nevertheless far better than the traditional burning-at-a-stake.). The penalty in Morrowind, I hear, is much less agreeable._

_Why do so many races abhor the exhumation of corpses in experimentation, you ask?_

_It is, gentle reader, often down to the misguided notion of 'personae dignitis', to borrow language from a Breton law concerning the matter. The idea is that a sentient being retains 'dignity' even after death, making it 'morally wrong' to forcibly relocate and raise it. _

_In Morrowind and Hammerfell, souls are held to be sacred, particularly the souls of ancestors. Ergo, these two provinces are the ones with the hardest stance considering Necromancy._

_Outdated and misinformed views though these two ideas may be, they continue to exist and make our work difficult._

_Seeing that Bosmer __**eat**__ their dead and Nords burn them in funeral pyres, it seems pointless to write of Valenwood and Skyrim._

_On a lighter note, though, it is far easier to exhume corpses in the less civilized provinces of Blackmarsh and Elswyr. Being naturally dangerous places deaths occur often. However, the natural environment is so often an obstacle. In Blackmarsh corpses rot with phenomenal speed due to humidity and voracious scavengers. In Elswyr a Necromancer would have to venture far into the desert to reach a burial site, which is not a danger-free activity to engage in._

_Grave-robbing from a city is not recommended as the chances of getting caught are much higher than say a cemetery in the countryside (such as theone outside Skingrad in Cyrodiil). However, if a Necromancer can find a safe cemetery to rob he or she is assured of a reliable source of bodies._

_Consider the collection of the corpses of recently-hung criminals._

_The earliest anatomists of Cyrodiil resorted to this method as then the use of bodies even for mundane scientific research was not allowed._

_As bodies were often left hanging from the gallows for a few days to send a message to would-be criminals it was a simple matter to simply cut loose the body in the dead of night and relocate it to a secure location such as one's home or the home of an associate._

_With the almost universal decline of the death-penalty, however, it has become increasingly difficult to do this. _

_Consider the purchase of slaves and the killing of them for bodies._

_Out of all the provinces, only Morrowind and Elswyr have a slave trade, and even there it is in decline. However at the time of writing this it is still possible to obtain slaves there at a reasonable price._

_Providing that one kills slaves in small numbers only one is unlikely to draw attention to oneself as slaves quite routinely die of disease, hunger, exhaustion etc._

_In Morrowind slaves can be bought from towns near the border with Blackmarsh or port towns where Khajiit slaves are transported to from Elswyr. Note that only Khajiit and Argonians are slaves in Morrowind, so it would not be possible to use this method to obtain the corpses of Imperials, for example._

_In Elsewyr slaves are generally to be found in Senchal, a port city where slaves are transported to Morrowind. Only Khajiit slaves are to be found here._

_So while this method is limited in the sense that it can only be used in two provinces and only Khajiit and Argonian corpses can be acquired it is better than the previous methods as it is the safest illegal way of obtaining bodies._

Aleximus threw down his quill and leaned back in his chair. _Gods! Finally! _That chapter on corpse acquisition had taken him the better part of the evening. All the drafts he wrote and rewrote...

And still there was no sign of Caranya.

The Necromancer muttered darkly and looked about the room to relax his eyes. They were dry and tense from having been focused on the same piece of paper for several hours.

The Tiber Septim Hotel's study was small but clean and well-furnished. And the desk didn't smell of mildew. Always a plus.

Aleximus folded up the piece of parchment he had been writing on and slipped it into his pocket. It would join the notes he had made on Alchemical apparatus and their usefulness of Alchemy in Necromancy back in Fort Phalanx.

He got up from his chair and stretched his back. He hadn't been out of the fort for some time, and had enjoyed himself, even though the trip was more business than leisure. He briefly wondered how the Liches were holding up.

He was glad he was a Necromancer of sufficient skill to raise the bodies of mages as Liches rather than mere zombies. Liches were far more intelligent and occasionally even retained some memory and knowledge from their past life to aid his research.

The thought of leaving Fort Phalanx, with its delicate apparatus and dozens of prisoners, in the hands of a handful of zombies, half of which hadn't _heads_...


	7. Chapter 7

Caranya swept the block with a Detect Life spell, which confirmed her suspicions. Everyone in the University (even Tar-Meena!) was asleep somewhere. Even if not, they were certainly not in the Archives.

Waving her left hand almost carelessly she conjured up a ball of dense red mist. It proceeded to pour out of her hand and to coalesce into a little crimson puddle on the ground before her. A dark red shape rose up and took the form of a grizzled Dremora, clad in full armour save for a helmet, claymore strapped conspicuously to its back.

'No one comes in.' With that, the Master-Wizard marched into the Mystic Archives block, locking the door magickally.

Conjuring a few small but nevertheless bright orbs of green light she searched the 'Special' section. The invisible barrier that kept out Apprentices did nothing to slow her down, as Caranya was of high-enough rank to gain entry.

Caranya cursed. The section was huge, and she could summon anything to help her, having already bound the Dremora guarding the door. She had been scanning all the shelves when she had the idea to look in the 'Research' subsection. It would probably be there.

She took heart when she saw there was only one shelf to search.

Carefully she looked up and down, and finally found the leather (or was it netch-hide? Was there even a difference?!) bound book. She looked at it thoughtfully.

'Book' was a bit of a misnomer. It was less than fifty pages long. 'Paper' would be a better word for it. Trust a Telvanni to bind it in netch-hide anyway.

Pulling out a square of parchment she cast a spell over the research paper before her. Black lines of writing began to form on the bit if parchment she had in the other hand. When she was finished, the parchment looked as though someone had knocked their inkpot over it, as the lines were written over each other multiple times.

Putting the thin 'book' back in its place, she stepped over the glowing line on the floor that indicated a magickal barrier and walked towards the door.

**********

Back in the Tiber Septim hotel Aleximus was idly writing key topic lines for his next chapter, 'Summoning'. It was a difficult subject to explain satisfactorily in words, and the Necromancer felt he had better make a start.

He had done four or five when he felt it: a little tickling at the back of his mind. He snorted. _About time._

**********

Philip sat in his cell groggily. He had nibbled at the food the Liches shoved into his little cell and already could he feel the effects of the drugs they had laced it with.

He felt...subdued. Physical strength, agility, magickal ability, even mental quickness. The drugs were sapping them, and he knew he had to escape soon.

He had been waiting for the Liches to leave. As it stood, only two zombies were guarding the corridor and its prisoners. With his meager skills in Restoration Phillip cast a spell on himself to reduce the effects of the poison. He did not dispel it completely, though, as it would have taken too much of his magicka to do so, and he needed as much of it as possible.

Casting one of the few Alteration spells he knew he unlocked the door of his cell. As he stepped out of his cell the zombies took note and immediately lumbered towards him, arms outstretched. Blasting each with a fireball he cast an Open spell at the spriggan's cell and immediately cast Invisiblity.

With a roar the spriggan burst through the wooden door that lead out of the corridor and summoned a black bear to her side.

The skeleton archer in the room immediately strung an arrow but was knocked down by the bear before it could fire.

Phillip cast Detect Life and cursed himself for not practicing this particular spell more. He only managed a forty foot radius...

A door on the far side of the room burst open in a brief flash of purple light.

_Telekinesis._

_**Lich...**_

Max floated on a pillar of magickal force, his loose maroon robe fluttering with the magickal wind now blowing around him.

_Root system be damned!_ The Lich thought furiously. This spriggan had just destroyed three of his colleagues. Her head would _roll..._

With a savage motion a bright ball of orange light broiled and spun in one of the Lich's hands. The spriggan snarled at the Lich, no doubt recognizing him, and the black bear began to charge.

The orange ball was thrown in the bear's general direction. As it travelled it increased in dimensions until it became, basically, a moving explosion. The bear was engulfed completely.

As the bear's corpse vanished to wherever the spriggan had called it from and the flames subsided a small orb of dim blue light could be seen to race across the room. The spriggan threw itself to a side. The frost bolt hit a wall and cracked it.

Philip wowed silently. He had no idea the undead could cast magic like that...

The spriggan rose and hissed. It waved its arms in the air and another black bear appeared. This time they both charged the undead mage.

Max blasted the bear it its face with a frost bolt, killing it in mid-charge. The spriggan however, had reached the Lich. Its hands glowing crimson it cast its most powerful spell on its enemy. What the spriggan wasn't prepared for was the purple and blue glow of Max's Spell Reflection and the immediate seizing up of its body.

Glancing down with a look of disdain Max, rather unmercifully, set the spriggan on fire with a wave of his moist and squishy hand. He also stopped levitating and took a few steps back to better enjoy the view.

Being made of wood, the spriggan burned quite readily, and made a strange guttural sound as it did so.

Phillip considered his options. Was the Lich weakened enough by the fight to be taken down? Rather shaken by what he had just witnessed Phillip asked himself if he really wanted to find out...

He decided to sneak on, still Invisible. Best not take any chances. He left the Lich to wonder exactly how the spriggan got out.

Valuable lesson: when a Lich is angry, _**move.**_

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yes I love Liches. They're the coolest ever.

Always thought it would be funny to have a Lich named Max. 


	8. Chapter 8

Max swaggered into the musty corridor. The battle had been...dared he say it..._fun. _As if a walking tree could ever hope to conquer a _Lich_...

Of course, when his eyes fell on the _two_ empty cells before him, the adrenaline which had scarcely begun to subside flared up again.

_So there was an escapee, was there?_

The Lich hesitated. Should he contact Aleximus? Or rally the other undead for a search? He came to his decision fairly quickly.

One break out was enough. Two would just make him look bad.

**********

Phillip was surprised at how quickly the Liches coordinated their actions. He had scarcely begun to work his way around the sprawling ruin when hurried squelches heralded the bustling zombies which presently began to scour the fort.

Liches floated here and there, throwing puffs of white light at doors which promptly shut and locked themselves. Phillip's heart sank somewhat. They were clever, these Liches. Still, the young Imperial had a taste for danger (or was that a cavalier attitude towards life?).

They would do their best to hunt. And he would do all he could to evade. The game was afoot!

**********

'Bloody trapdoor...' Aleximus heard Caranya think, before said trapdoor to the Tiber Septim hotel's study room glowed yellow and swung open on its own accord.

Aleximus smiled to himself. Caranya, Caranya...If it doesn't do as you want, _blast_ it...

Huffing, the tall Altmer woman lifted herself up onto the floor of the study. Waving her left hand casually she caused the little valise she had brought along to float lazily up from the lower floor and into her right hand.

'Aleximus.' She said simply. He waited for her to continue. 'I have the notes you wanted. Do you have...' the trail after last word indicating that for his own benefit, the Breton gentleman had _better_...

'Of course. Have a seat.' He motioned to the benches around a small table. Caranya promptly seated herself. He took a spot opposite her. Caranya absent-mindedly snapped her fingers, and the trapdoor shut itself. It glowed yellow and green, indicating it had been locked and Silenced.

Aleximus was impressed.

Caranya pulled out a piece of parchment, and Aleximus happily noted it was black with scrawled words. Reaching into one of his pockets, he pulled out the small green phial.

'Switch!' the Breton said brightly.

Breathlessly snatching the vial from him Caranya pulled off the cork and examined the potion. The cork floated in mid-air as she did so.

For his part Aleximus floated the parchment the Altmer had placed on the table towards him. Suddenly, Caranya looked up and with a jerk of her hand pulled the parchment back.

'Not _yet_.' she said sharply. 'I need you for one last task...' Aleximus cursed inwardly. Fetching First Strata members...never gave the reward until they were done with you...did she not trust him, after all these years?

Although Aleximus was also intrigued. As a Second Strata Necromancer, he was not lowly ranked. This must be a mission important to the Order, not just another of Caranya's errands.

'What do you want me to do?' Aleximus inquired softly.

'Put it in the Cyrodiilic brandy I told you to get. Write a letter to a woman as if you were her secret admirer. Did you get the chocolates and the bouquet?' Aleximus nodded. 'Good. Drop them off at the University. Tell them it's for Cornelia.'

Aleximus knew part this beforehand. For example, he knew he would be putting the poison in the brandy, and that it would be used to knock someone out. He had gathered as much from peering into the Altmer's mind the first time she broached the subject of this mission.

No doubt the laced brandy would put this Cornelia to sleep when she excitedly opened her 'presents'. He had read this in Caranya's thoughts when she first broached the subject. The reason, however, Aleximus had not discerned.

'May I ask what this is all for?' Aleximus asked innocuously, feigning ignorance. Best let the higher-ups remain ignorant of the fact that years of Mysticism practice had in fact made him an amateur mind-reader. He didn't want them to start putting guards up against him. Think of all the juicy gossip he would lose!

'Top-secret, I'm afraid.' Caranya said icily. Aleximus took the hint. 'Let's just say I need her to...fall asleep at the wheel for a little while, if you will...'

Privately Aleximus wondered what the Mage's Guild was coming to, if it was so easy for a Necromancer to get to a high rank and plot to slip Languorwine into someone...

************

The moment one of the Liches cast a spiral of purple lights around himself, Phillip knew the time had come. The Lich would see him, and there was no way he'd win a direct fight. Not in the state he was in...

The Lich, surprised to see the escapee's life-signature flicker so close by, stood still for just a moment. Then his senses returned and he let off a Paralysis spell.

Throwing himself to the right, Phillip managed to doge the glowing green bolt. His concentration broken, his Invisibility spell broke with a flutter of green light and a tinkle.

Phillip cast a fireball in the Lich's direction. It hit the undead mage squarely in the chest, and in a shimmer of pale blue was absorbed. The Lich looked upon the escapee with a superior disdain.

Lifting up a decomposed hand he launched a small fireball at the Imperial. Phillip cast a wide frost spell in return. As the fireball passed through the area of cold it sputtered and went out. The frost spell continued to move towards the Lich.

The pocket of cold enveloped the Lich, who to Phillip's anger remained unfazed. (was it just his imagination or did the Lich actually _roll its eyes_?!)

'Undead are immune to frost magic...' the voice of a lecturer droned in Phillip's mind. The Imperial gritted his teeth. Thanks, memory...'But are vulnerable to flame...' Phillip's eyes widened.

The Guild had taught him something useful after all...

With the very last of his magicka, Phillip cast a mighty Flame Tempest. As the burning vortex spiraled in the Lich's general direction, Phillip turned and ran.

Undead eyes popped open in surprise as the Lich managed to cast a strong Flame Shield just in time to counter the Imperial's spell. The flames did not damage the Lich, but as the spell remained active for some few seconds and the shield required his absolute attention (this Lich obviously dan't practiced his Alteration enough when he was alive...), Phillip was allowed a generous head-start.

As the flames weakened, the Lich angrily let loose a huge Blizzard spell, which immediately doused the flames around him. With a savage thrust of its hand it cast a Damage health spell at the fleeing Imperial's back.

Phillip did not notice the spell come up from behind him, so his heart rightfully skipped a beat as the buzzing red bolt passed his head by inches and fizzed out ten feet in front of him.

He reached the door at the end of the large room and tugged on it. Luckily the door wasn't locked yet as the Lich he had exchanged a few spells had been the one tasked to lock it.

Unluckily, the Lich in charge of the fort when Aleximus was out was in the corridor behind it, curious as to why he had detected a small tornado of fire in one of the rooms.

The poor Imperial got the shock of his life when he threw open the doors to see a Lich standing not three feet in front of him.

Max recovered from the shock first. 'Good evening.' he purred, as a massive bolt of green light formed in one of his hands. Phillip backed up a few steps. He was frightened.

Max practically flung the spell at him.

With a cry, Phillip fell down and brought his hands up, the most basic and instinctual human response to an attack that cannot be escaped.

The Paralysis spell stopped in mid-air, hovered about, and promptly shattered. Shards of green light flew through the air and faded away.

Max was stunned. The Imperial had shattered a powerful spell purely instinctually, without conscious thought.

Phillip was surprised too. He didn't know he could do that.

A whistling sound came from across the room. Phillip turned, eyes bulging. Did he just hear a Lich......_whistle_?!

So distracted was his brain that he didn't know what hit him as Max cast a devastating Drain Fatigue spell on him. The Imperial was out cold.

Max was still and thoughtful.

Aleximus would want to hear of this...

_________________________________________________________________________________

Why yes, everyone knows Liches roll their eyes when unimpressed and whistle when they are!

I loved the idea of casting a super frost spell at a Lich only to see it shrug it off...


	9. Chapter 9

Aleximus was up for another hour after Caranya had cast Chameleon and disappeared out the door. He was in his room, lightly soaking the plain Khajiiti chocolates (he was keeping the honey-filled ones for himself...) in Languorwine, and pouring ever so little into the Cyrodiilic brandy. Just in case Cornelia wasn't into brandy. Although Caranya would probably have known that.

Not too much, or poor Cornelia stood a good chance of going catatonic.

When he was done, he inspected the phial. Still half-full. Lovely, the Necromancer thought to himself. Never know when a bit of Languorwine might come in handy...

Now that _that_ was done, the old gent had a little time to think. What on Nirn required the drugging of University staff? Just as she had left, Aleximus mentally picked up the faintest whispering of the words 'finally' and 'artifacts'.

And that look in her eye; fanaticism, trepidation, excitement... Oh yes, years of being among Breton nobility had taught him how to read people. It was a game he used to play, when he was young. And unhappy.

_No. He would not tear open old wounds._

_What had this mission really been about?_, he forced his mind to refocus. Her choice of agent was very revealing; a Necromancer researcher, high enough in rank to be trusted, low enough to be expendable...

Also, very few things could get Caranya to show emotion. One of them would have to be getting a task from...

Hmm.

Aleximus' fatigue finally spoke up as his mind whirred. It had been a long day. Taking a deep breath and sighing the Necromancer agreed: This puzzle was one for the morning.

He got up from the little table in his room and arranged his things. Back into the bags went the box of chocolates, the little bouquet, and the bottle of overpriced brandy (two hundred septims?! _Robbery!!)._

He arranged himself on the plush crimson-and-gold bed, and threw his head onto the pillows behind him. He actually gasped when his head sank right through.

Not skilled enough in Alteration to temporarily increase the mass and density of the stuffing, the Necromancer took the two pillows on the other side of his bed and placed them on top of their pillow brethren.

There. Now at least his weary head had some _support_. The huffy Necromancer drifted off to sleep with the sentence 'useless overpriced Imperial hotels...' on his mind.

**********

Caranya's writing was cramped and spidery. Immediate detachment to Fort Ontus...full Council to be assembled...report pending...artifact researchers to be mobilized...

The Altmer was feeling quite smug.

_He would be pleased._

**********

Fort Phalanx looked majestic, the top half caught in the orange marmalade light of the sun, dusty pink and violet clouds framing its upper borders. Behind it lay more forest. Same with before it, and to the left and right...

An outer wall of stone noticeably cleaner than the fort's main building material (Aleximus had had his zombies build that) surrounded it, and a few tall trees peeked out from behind. A wrought iron gate faced the forest in a southeasterly direction, the only way in or out of the complex. Aleximus' 'estate' stood on a patch of grassy flat ground in the middle of dense forest.

No doubt the Empire had built it as a control point for region, as it was in a secure location, solidly built and very large.

Imagine that Chorrol, Skingrad and the Imperial City formed a triangle. Fort Phalanx would be at the centre. Far enough from civilization to be left alone, and close enough to it to be convenient.

Not as far from Hackdirt as Aleximus would have liked, but if one left them alone, they left you alone, as he discovered.

Far off in the distance a light in the early morning sky. A turquoise skull leered across the forest, hovering over the greens, oranges and reds of the trees.

Skeleton archers lowered their bows. It was a recognized signal.

A young woman with straight black hair, a silky black robe and much too much eyeliner made her way forward on horseback.

Between the bars the courier spied archers on the walls, and a couple of zombies shuffling about, in mockery of guard dogs. If it came to it, Aleximus had ensured Phalanx could repel a small contingent of soldiers, though that was a habit more suited to Highrock, really (Angry peasant mobs were a constant nuisance there.).

A Lich stepped out of the heavy doors of the fort. As it approached the gates they swung open of their own accord.

'Yes?' it asked dryly.

'Message for your master, Aleximus.' The courier responded curtly.

She handed over the thick white envelope and promptly turned and left. If the turquoise skull signal and overabundance of black were not clues enough, the image on the wax seal removed all doubt.

The wax was black, with the imprint of red skull, arms crossed beneath it. The Lich was careful not to soil the envelope with loose skin/pus/whatever as it retreated back into the fort.

The gates swung closed.

***********

Max was in the library, looking through some old (and therefore _extra_ soggy and worm-eaten) books scrolls and manuscripts, trying to find anything that could shed some light on the young prisoner's extraordinary ability to influence foreign spells at a distance.

Was he gifted with a power he himself did not understand? Or was this something natural; there had been documented cases of perfectly normal people performing remarkable feats of strength or agility when their lives had been in danger. Was this the magickal counterpart of that?

Max felt he had better have some information to offer Aleximus upon the latter's return from his Imperial City sojourn. Perhaps it would be enough to distract Aleximus from the fact that he had messed up, and that a specimen had been destroyed, three servants incapacitated, and an escape attempted...

Had his vocal chords been up to it, Max would have groaned.


	10. Chapter 10

It was ten in the morning. Aleximus had slept in. Having paid enough gold for a carriage ride to Bruma for the room at the Tiber Septim, the Necromancer had decided to make full use of the bed, if only out of spite.

Presently he was in a small cafe in the Imperial City he'd never been in before. The furniture was all wooden, and there was a long bar table with stools along it, so it rather resembled a bar. It was owned by a pleasant Khajiit man.

Feeling a stiffness in his neck from a night of inadequate head support he had ordered a cup of Mane Grey tea and two vanilla sweetrolls. His life in High Rock had exposed him to the pleasures of luxury and good food, which unfortunately could not be entirely replicated in the old ruin he lived in now.

Alas, the Breton thought to himself on some nights, the price of freedom was the necessity of roughing it up a bit. Still, he got by.

The Khajiit man brought over his order in a round tray, and as Aleximus looked up to thank him he noticed that another customer was present, and was sitting alone at his table. From what Aleximus could see the other man was dressed in a black suit and tie, and had short black hair. He looked to be in his twenties.

_About a third my age, _the Necromancer thought sadly. For the first time in a long while the Breton felt...well..._old. _It was most jarring.

The young man surprised Aleximus by getting up and walking over to his table. 'Hello. May I join you?' he asked politely.

Stunned, Aleximus' mouth seemed a separate being from himself as it opened and said 'Sure.'

The young man smiled and seated himself.

'So, do you live here in the City? I haven't seen you around before. My name's Jack.' The young man said.

'Oh no,' Aleximus replied. He would have to be quick on his feet. Looked like quiz time...

The Necromancer proceeded to go on about how he lived in Chorrol (semi true) and was in town to conduct some personal business like meeting up with friends and buying things (also semi true).

Aleximus found it much easier to lie convincingly when the lie was close to the truth. It also required less time to think out.

Annoyed at himself for not having to the foresight to invent a story before hand, Aleximus missed the young man's next question.

'Sorry?' he asked. 'What are your plans for tonight?' Jack repeated.

At this point the Khajiit proprietor returned to Aleximus' table with another tray, this time with Jack's Cyrodiil Sling. He gave Aleximus a wink before leaving.

Looking at the gaudy pink cocktail in its glass, and realizing the significance of the young man's friendliness, the Khajiit's wink and the fact that he hadn't read about this place anywhere, the Necromancer felt like a Nord had taken a sledgehammer to his forehead.

Oh. My. _Gods._

****

Philip wasn't feeling very good, what with the sedatives and magicka inhibitors in his meals. After his attempted escape he had been put in a different cell, with four zombies on guard. He noticed that this was a different part of the fort. High security, perhaps?

His only hope now seemed to be rescue by his comrades. But how would they find him? Would they even look, or assume he had deserted?

If only they taught magical communication in the Battle College...


	11. Chapter 11

Elegant white porcelain cup of tea in hand, Aleximus' brain reeled. This was _that_ kind of cafe. He felt a fool. Didn't the absence of females and tasteful interior decorating simply scream 'dandy'?

'Are you quite alright?' the young man asked concernedly. The gentleman across the small table seemed to have turned a bit pale. Pale_r _actually.

Aleximus' mouth articulated that he was completely fine. Part of Aleximus wondered how his mouth had done this on its own, because he certainly wasn't consciously controlling it. Act natural, his brain told itself. You can't always be trying to run away. Not nearly fifty years on.

'I'm sorry. Just got distracted.' Aleximus said.

'I'm not actually doing anything tonight. It's my last day in the Imperial City before I return home. My work is very time consuming, actually, and I hardly ever come out here unless I have business.' 'I understand,' young Jack said. Aleximus tried to place his age. Twenty three? Definitely less than twenty eight. 'I myself only came here to meet a client. I'm a banker. For North River bank.'

'Ah,' Aleximus replied, recognising the name. 'Cheydinhal's premier investment bank.' Jack smiled. 'It's nice to meet new people here. Met a lot of good clients in the City, but it's the friends at K'Jagar's that make the visits memorable.' Aleximus could only assume that the Khajiiti proprietor was the K'Jagar being discussed. While his heart was still palpitating he was calming down. This was all just a chance to have a nice chat after all. After all the work he had been doing recently, researching and amateur book writing and all, and the whole ridiculous stint with Caranya, Aleximus decided to let himself relax.

Their conversation continued, and Aleximus found Jack Lancert to be bracing company, with knowledge of economics and politics. It was during this time that Aleximus learnt about the intricacies of the Empire's supply side policies and the pros and cons of Elder Council hedge funds. One and a half hours passed quickly.

'Since you don't have any plans, would you like to have dinner with my client and me tonight at Mirouet's? It's a nice Breton restaurant.' Jack added, seeing Aleximus' face light up upon hearing the name. Aleximus was pleased. He hadn't eaten at a Breton restaurant in much too long. He said yes, and was given the address and time.

Looking pleased, Jack excused himself from the table and left out the door. Aleximus felt very satisfied. Happy that his morning had turned out to be educational and fun instead of the quiet tea drinking episode he had expected it to be, he ordered another Mane Grey tea, downed it and left. It was late morning, and a stroll through the Arboretum and Elven Gardens seemed fitting. Which should he do first, though? Ah the pleasures of choice...

****

Scowling, Max replaced the tome on the shelf. His search through Aleximus' collection of references and encyclopaedias of this and that had been fruitless. Not one text could explain or give precedent to the prisoner's unheard of spellcraft.

At the end of his wits, he decided to turn to the one last major work on magic in the room, the very comprehensive and very tedious 'Kingdoms of Magicka' by Euclideo, E291. The first chapters were pretty basic: All magic was separated according to Kingdom, Domain, Class, Order, and Magnitude. 'Flare' for example, would be classified: Aetherian, Destruction, Elemental: Fire, Ranged: Single Target, Minor. Thus it could be seen that it was cast using magicka from Aetherius, was a Destruction spell, an elemental fire spell, a ranged spell with a single target, and a weak spell.

The middle chapters dealt with Psijic magic, Maomer snake magic, Daedric magic and all the rest of it. It was the very last chapter that interested Max, for it spoke superficially of another kind of magic the author called 'Innate' magic, which was magic cast using the background energy spanning the universe that was all that remained from Padomay's conflicts with Anu. The very first kind of energy to exist in the universe, and thus innate in existence itself.

The author acknowledged the controversial nature of the topic and added that it was only for the sake of argument that he included it. Max applauded Euclideo. No other writer he had ever read had been brave enough to broach the subject. Continuing, Max discovered some interesting theories of Euclideo's regarding the people he thought would be able to access this source of power. To get further, he would have to ask the prisoner some questions...

****

Imperial sculptors had to be given credit, Aleximus thought. The sculptures of the Divines in the Arboretum, alto relievo of religious scenes on the walls behind the foliage and the arabesques on the low walls enclosing the garden sections were exquisite. The Imperial architects had been wise to work with the Ayleid architecture of the City rather than against it, and created arches and pillars that were distinct from the Ayleid walls and yet able to co-exist with it, creating something distinctly Imperial yet tempered with Ayleid elegance and grace in stone.

The choice of stone, pure white marble for the sculptures and light grey for the reliefs was very tasteful, and the greys and pure whites brought out rather than competed with the lush dark and light greens, purples and reds of the foliage, which included flowering plants and bushes with colourful leaves around medium height trees of various shapes, conical and oblong being used ornamentally, with spreading plane trees planted close to the paths to shade benches.

The Arboretum was one of Aleximus' favourite places in the City, and it was the instinct to save its great beauty for last that made Aleximus explore the Elven Gardens first, where the emphasis was on the colours of the plants, and yellows, oranges and reds played with the greens of the leaves, and where the explorer could stop for a sit on wood and wrought iron benches among flowering bushes and shrubs.

Guards were on every corner of the Arboretum to deter vandals, but they were polite when spoken to and silent when not, so their presence was no burden.

Pleased that his morning had been so thoroughly pleasant and looking forward to a nice dinner with his new friend before his return to work at Fort Phalanx, Aleximus' mind was on what he would do with his early afternoon before doing his last task for Caranya.

****

Squelch. Clink. Squelch. Clink.

Philip looked up and was mollified to see the Lich walking up to his cell. He involuntarily backed up to a corner next to his sleeping mat. A pointless gesture, really. One of the zombies opened the gate for Max to enter, and the Lich stepped inside the decidedly spacious cell. He sat down on the small wooden chair in the closet corner of the cell and smoothed down his maroon robe.

Giving the young prisoner his best smile (a ghastly show of rotting fangs, of course, though he would never admit it) he spoke. 'We really hit it off on the wrong foot. Why don't we try again? My name is Max, and this is Fort Phalanx.'

Philip, shaken as he was, managed to stammer an introduction.

'So, Philip, may I ask under what sign you were born?' Max asked, hoping he sounded casual and non-chalant. As casual as a rasp could sound at any rate. Philip answered the odd question. 'The Serpent. It was a leap-day,' he added. Max was silent, unwilling to give anything away. In truth he was grimly confirmed in his suspicions. 'And your parents?' This question surprised Philip as well. What was it that this Lich wanted? 'My mother was three years older than my father. She was born under the Apprentice, and he the Atronach.' The most magickally powerful and unstable star-signs. There could be no doubt now.

What were the chances? Had he been religious Max would have said it was the hand of Fate that brought Philip to them. However he was not, and thought it an extraordinary stroke of luck. When Aleximus returned he would have to be informed immediately. It would be wise to keep this secret in the meantime. The boy was an asset of unimaginable worth. He was also a mage with unknown potential. Best to be careful.

'Please accept my apologies,' Max smiled. He didn't notice Philip flinch ever so little. 'We hadn't realized we had a mage on our hands. Until your attempted escape of course.' Philip's mind raced. Were they going to kill him? Release him?

Neither, it seemed. Max got up and left. A while later Philip heard another couple of zombies and even a skeleton stopping outside the door. It seemed Max wasn't taking any chances and was determined to prevent his escape. Philip sank resignedly. He was at the Necromancers' mercy now. Speaking of which, there didn't seem to be very many of in this ruin.


	12. Chapter 12

The Imperial City's Market District was_ the_ place to buy things. Cheap bric-a-brac to exotic Tsaeci furniture. Hole-in-the-wall eating places to some of the finest restaurants and cafes in the province, as famous for their artist and literati guests as their food and drink.

Aleximus was out of the Arboretum and had stood on the pavement for a few minutes before spotting a hansom. It was making its way rather speedily down the road. Aleximus stuck out his right hand and waved it vertically a couple of times. The jet black hansom stopped right in front of him.

'To the Market District, Acanthus Road, please.' Aleximus said before opening the door and stepping in. The young man in dark blue clothes cracked his whip, and the chestnut coloured horse pulling them trotted off. An afternoon of shopping! Aleximus was thinking of what to buy for the dinner, for such an event certainly called for new clothes. Just this once Aleximus decided to get something not ripped off a corpse. Agamir was not to know...

At the same time, he wondered what to do with the poisoned chocolates and brandy back at the hotel. Would he pay a beggar to deliver them for him? Use a Command spell on one, perhaps? Aleximus' mind however could not be compelled to ponder the issue. It kept drifting back to thinking about what he would look like in ink blue.

****

'Good afternoon to you.' The melodic Altmer voice chimed from behind the counter. Aleximus was a little intimidated. Looking around at the samples of silk and taffeta, the wooden mannequins in their brocades, and the gilt full-length mirrors in rooms designated by creamy peach curtains, it was clear Palonirya ran a fancy establishment. It had been a long time since Aleximus had been in a place this openly elitist.

Store girls scurried out of the Altmer's way as she swept towards the helpless Breton in her crimson-magenta-turquoise getup. Gripping his arms in their tan sleeves she dragged Aleximus over to the men's section and commented that his choice of colour was very conservative. 'Have you ever thought of wearing greens?' she asked cheerfully as the Breton stood slack jawed. Wheeling around to a clothes rack against the wall she pulled off a green and gold brocade jacket, a white leather belt with round gold buckle, some olive green pants and a pair of embroidered green velvet shoes.

She thrust them at the Breton and shooed him into a changing room, pulling the curtains shut behind him.

Deciding to give them a shot, Aleximus took off the tan and brown outfit he had been wearing, as well as his shoes and black bowtie. He did not really care for the gold curlicues embroidered on the brocade, but dutifully put the clothes on. He observed himself in the large mirror which afforded him a full view, down to his shoes.

As a set of clothing they matched very well of course, with the different shades of green going well together and the sharp white of the belt pairing with the gold. However Aleximus wondered if the green didn't quite suit his silver hair and beard, which he suddenly noticed had become quite long over the few days he had been in the City. A trim would be necessary! His thoughts would be interrupted by the Altmer's chime of 'Are you done in there?'

Stepping out, Aleximus was received by the bubbly praise of the Altmer designer and shopkeeper. 'It looks _wonderful_! Green is definitely your colour! The white and gold especially look very classy! You know Mercator, the Count of Skingrad's personal assistant? He bought the exact same brocade for a state dinner!' The name-drop wasn't lost on the Necromancer. He decided to buy it. If he later decided he definitely didn't want to ever wear it he could always give to one of the Liches as a present or something.

Palonirya handed the clothes to a store assistant and stayed with this promising new customer. He was the only person in the store at the moment, and she so enjoyed getting personally involved with their selection of clothes. Aleximus looked around the gigantic store for a few minutes when his eyes fell on the most exquisite set of clothing he had ever seen. It was on a wooden mannequin. A burgundy silk shirt with gold floral embroidery, paired with creased narrow burgundy pants that were tight around the calves. There was a gold belt of hide with a circular silver buckle. The shirt had a row of polished brass buttons down the middle, and the collar was stiff and had an embroidered gold diamond around the top button. Around the shirt was a glossy black taffeta open jacket, with fur trimming down the sides and around the collar.

Palonirya saw him looking. 'Black and burgundy, with gold embroidery. The finest silks and furs from the Lunar Moths of the Khajiit and the grey wolves of the Jerall Mountains, where Cyrodiil meets the wilds of Bruma...'she said softly. Aleximus was in utter awe. 'It was the crowning piece in my autumn collection fifteen years ago. I have never had the heart to take it down.'

'Of course,' she said slightly bitterly, 'you see all sorts of people wearing copies of it nowadays. Cotton shirts and woollen jackets, with wolf fur from the mutts on the Reserve. Disgusting.' Aleximus was humbled. Up to this point he had though Palonirya was merely a snobby clothes seller. Now he could see that she truly was talented, and was genuinely invested in creating something beautiful in her designs and her choice of materials. He felt much warmer about her now.

'Who bought it? He asked. Palonirya laughed. 'I only ever did sell three of the four of them. Count Hassildor bought one through an agent. Count Caro bought one at a fashion show in the Castle, and Countess Umbranox bought one for her husband. That was two years before he disappeared.'

'How much is it?' Aleximus asked. Palonirya whirled towards him, openly shocked. 'I beg your pardon?' 'How much does it cost? I must have one.' He replied. Palonirya sputtered. 'I...well, thirty five thousand septims!'

Aleximus smiled. 'I'll write a cheque.'

****

Thirty five thousand septims. There were houses on the Waterfront that cost twenty thousand. Aleximus had bought just such a one. The cheque was cleared by one of the girls at the Imperial Construction Bank. Palonirya had Aleximus for a cup of tea upstairs, where she also gave him a special invitation to a fashion show in Castle Cheydinhal in a few months time.

Aleximus left the outfit in Palonirya's care until he needed it for the dinner. He did not want to risk any sort of damage to it. Really he was quite in love with it. It was certainly the most stunning set of clothes he had ever bought. The blacks and browns that were his usual staples seemed unadventurous now. Palonirya had the right idea. Live life a little.

Try wearing greens some time.


	13. Chapter 13

'A very nice choice.' The store owner beamed. Aleximus had asked to see an amulet under the glass of the front counter. It was a beautifully cut ruby with gold filigree wrapped around the top half,with a thin gold chain used to secure it to the neck. A simple hook and ring at the back were used to join the two parts of the chain. Aleximus thought it was beautiful, but wondered if there would be too much red at his neck, what with the shirt collar already being burgundy.

'Can I look at the jade one? That one.' He pointed it out. Hamlorf obligingly reached into the glass case and retrieved it. It was a thick ring of light green jade, with a black silk chord that was simply slipped over the head. Aleximus liked it. A touch of the exotic Far West would go well with the luxurious clothes, with their own materials having been sourced from far off places. It seemed right that Jerall wolf fur and Khajiit silk should be worn with the most famous precious stone of Akavir.

Aleximus paid with a cheque. After what he had spent on the clothes the several thousand septims he had to pay for the necklace seemed quite paltry. It was about three o'clock, and he was feeling a bit hungry. His breakfast had been quite light after all. He took the bag from Hamlorf and walked out of the store. Anticipating some rich food for dinner, he decided to have a light lunch. A salad in one of the cafes on the plaza sounded good.

****

Aleximus decided to sit out in the sun, rather than indoors. The wrought iron table and chair were quite hot under their table cloth and cushion, but he didn't mind. It was not often he had the chance to get some sun. It was fortunate that Caranya had given him this job, he thought. There had been so much incidental fun. He no longer cared what she planned to do while Cornelia was asleep, because he had his own life to live now. He was done with the worrying over other's actions and thoughts.

A waiter brought out his white coffee, and he sipped it while looking at the pigeons around the benches being fed wheat grains by all sorts of people. His wallet was heavy with sovereigns and other high value coins because he had been paying with cheques mostly. Only his hotel stay and food had been paid with coin. A wild little part of him urged him to blow it all on clothes and nice food and drink. After all, it said, you eat and dress so meagrely in Phalanx, and you hardly live in a country home anymore. The more finically conservative side argued he should put the money back in the bank and collect that much more interest on his account. Aleximus was feeling satisfied, though, and full of the joy of living. Time to splurge!

The waiter came back with his nicoise salad. Aleximus tipped him with a sovereign. Shocked speechless at having received a hundred septims out of the blue he didn't say anything as Aleximus tucked in. The tip had far exceeded the cost of the salad, which had only cost sixty.

****

Palonirya was happy to see him back, and understood the gleam in his eye as he looked over the current year's summer collection. An orange and white plaid shirt, several pairs of new pants, a beige woollen sweater, three pin striped neckties in shades of blue and green and several other items of clothing later, and Palonirya had a store assistant feverishly adding up the total. 'Twenty seven thousand, six hundred and fifty.' She said breathlessly.

Aleximus paid with another cheque. Palonirya smiled widely. 'You understand.' She said.

****

Another hansom ride had taken him back to the Tiber Septim where he picked up from whatever belongings he had left there for safekeeping including the Languorwine laced chocolates and Cyrodiilic brandy. He deposited the two bags of clothing and the necklace. He gave the driver a ten to wait for him, so that he had the same one take him to end of the Arboretum where a bridge led to the Arcane University.

Crossing the bridge he saw it loom up ahead. He had never been inside it. In fact he hadn't stepped foot in a Mages Guildhall in decades. He felt quite odd.

He was alone on the bridge, or so he thought. He spotted a drunk sleeping on one the benches along the sides. He walked softly up to him and, laying hands on the fellow, cast a medium strength Domination spell. He could feel the magicka leave his body and seep into the other man's. His thoughts and will wrapped around the other man's mind like a veil of mist. It was a warm, floating feeling. The man's mind was incapacitated by the effects of alcohol, and he stood no chance against the practiced mage.

Aleximus was of two minds now. He could move the other man's body as though it were his own. To an extent he could even see and hear what the beggar saw and heard. They both moved towards the University.

When they reached the gates, however, Aleximus reconsidered. His plan up to that point had been to use the beggar to give the items to Raminus. However Aleximus now had doubts. Would the Master-Wizard accept the items from an obvious beggar and drunk? Sighing, Aleximus released his hold on the beggar, who collapsed on the stone floor. He pushed open the light brown double doors with their brass embellishments. He would have to do this himself.

****

'Welcome to the Arcane University.' Raminus said politely. ''May I ask your business?' 'I'm here to deliver some gifts to my beloved Cornelia.' Aleximus said, hoping he sounded convincing. Of course to one's own ears a lie always sounds forced and false. 'I know it's against the rules for me to visit her, so I was hoping if somebody could deliver it for me.' 'Oh...'Raminus said. 'Are you her husband, then?' Privately Raminus though the man was quite old enough to be her father.

Only now did Aleximus see the stupidity of the whole plan. Who on earth was going to believe he was the secret admirer of some young girl? He could be her grandfather, for Mara's sake! At this point he decided to try something very dangerous. He would try and Charm the Master-Wizard. 'No, I'm her father. I haven't seen her in a long while, so I thought I'd give her a few little things. I know she likes chocolates and Cyrodiilic brandy. It's very nice to meet you.' He extended his hand. The most powerful Charm spells needed contact.

As the two shook hands Aleximus saw into the Imperial's mind. Raminus wasn't sure about the visitor. Cornelia seemed purely Nordic, while this man was clearly a Breton. Aleximus felt a bit of fear. If this didn't work, Raminus would know he was a liar, and Aleximus did not want to get into a fight with a powerful mage. Bad for the health.

Heart a little jittery, Aleximus let his mind cool and become a whorl of colours. When out of the colours emerged friendship, he sent the whorl blasting through their physical contact and into Raminus' body. The Master-Wizard stiffened for the briefest of moments, and then broke out into a wide grin. 'Why of course! It's really quite thoughtful of you to do that. I'm sure she'll be overjoyed. Don't worry about it; I'll pass them along myself.'

Caranya 'happened' to step out of the teleportation pad. Aleximus was surprised, then realized she must have been in the Council chambers waiting for him. She would have recognised his Life Signature with Detect Life, and so would know he had done the deed. That must also have been why she had told him to come himself. The Breton did a double take. The plan was less stupid that he had thought.

Raminus turned around, greeted her, and headed out a door at the back of the room and into the University grounds. The two Necromancers were alone. Caranya spoke first. 'A Charm spell. Very logical. Here it is then.' She handed over the ink-covered parchment. Aleximus took it and put it in his breast pocket. She walked towards the teleportation pad and vanished in a purplish blur.

Unoffended by her rudeness Aleximus left as well. His clothes would have been dusted off by Palonirya's girls by now. Dinner was in two hours. Plenty of time to pick up his clothes from Divine Elegance , have a bath and change, then make his way to Mirouet's.

As the Breton stepped out he observed the sky. The sun was just about to begin setting. The bottoms of the clouds were getting ever so slightly rosy, and the beginnings of pastel orange had begun to tinge the sky. Aleximus could not imagine anything more beautiful than a sunset.


	14. Chapter 14

Palonirya gave the Necromancer a big welcome. She took him to the clothes which had been carefully folded along its lines and put in a shopping bag, all ready for him to take out. Inside were complementary address cards so he could tell all his friends where he bought his clothes from. With a final goodbye he left the shop.

Spotting a dark brown hansom hurtling down the road, Aleximus flagged it down. 'Talos Plaza Garden Square, please. The Tiber Septim hotel.' And with a crack of the driver's whip they were off.

****

Aleximus found himself looking at the beautiful wooden clock on the table as he lounged in the bath tub. Hot water from rain catchment systems simmered slightly in the copper tub. Ornate gold taps were at his feet, and the Necromancer was in a reclining position. The table with the clock was on his left, next to the tub, and also sported an emerald green glass dish piled high with little pink soaps in the shape of strawberries. How impractical.

Aleximus had had great trouble trying to get the water soapy by rubbing the soap between his hands in the water. Eventually he used magic to crush it. That made it much easier to lather.

Next to the door a couple of feet behind the table hung a few white towels, and a closet with a bath robe and fluffy slippers inside. However it was the closet in the other room that interested him. Inside hung his exquisite black and burgundy outfit. The very thought of wearing it sent a pleasant chill down his spine. He would swagger into Mirouet's and have a first class feast with a handsome banker and his wealthy client. How many Necromancers could boast doing that to cap a job?

The thought of his task for Caranya suddenly brought back into focus his own work at Fort Phalanx. With the notes Caranya had copied for him, his most ambitious project could begin. He had never dreamed of it. It had always been a fantasy of course, and he had always wondered what it would be like. Then one day Caranya arrives with a job and his one chance comes. It had blown him away that day two weeks ago, and the memory had a powerful element of emotion in it still. How things might have been different! He might well have done the same thing he had always been doing; collecting his money from assorted sources, investing it in his research, finally writing his book...Speaking of which, he realised he had soon better make another push on. He had already done a bit on practical Conjuration, and thought some basic Conjuration theory would be complementary.

For the first time since his capture, Aleximus thought about the Imperial Legionnaire he had kidnapped.

It had been so daring. Much more risky than visiting a small town grave or getting the Blackwood Company to round up some bandits. But he was young, and in the middle of a fight. Besides, a disappearance among the guards was not so uncommon. They would search and fail to find him and declare him killed in the line of duty, perhaps taken by surprise by a couple bandits, or savaged by a Minotaur, or have met any number of ends.

Everything was going well. In fact, Aleximus could hardly imagine a nicer way for things to work out.

With this thought in mind he let himself sink into the hot, soapy, faintly pink water in sheer bliss, not even minding the little grains of savaged strawberry soaps around his feet.

****

When he did slip it on, the Necromancer felt a faint chill. One of the more unusual features of Lunar Moth silk was perpetual coolness. It was also very fine and smooth to the touch, yet could make a crisp fabric when treated properly. The gold and burgundy shirt was truly a marvel. The wolf fur was equally luxurious, with a sort of richness in its feel and subtle colours. Rather than the normal iron grey, one could see whites and silvers and even bluish hairs.

The coat was warm but not stuffy, and the belt buckle had been well polished at the store. Aleximus looked at himself in the mirror across from his closet. He though he looked rather regal. This was, after all, Count Hassildor's regalia of choice. Aleximus tingled at the thought. But then he decided: why shouldn't he, though a Necromancer, share in the pleasures of wealth? Not everyone was so lucky to have the opportunity.

This was a perpetual argument inside the Necromancer. Sometimes he would splurge, sometimes he would be frugal. He could never seem to find a balance between the two. Always a pendulum, swinging from one to another.

****

Making his way down the staircase he saw the proprietor behind the desk turn her head. Her mouth fell open, completely involuntary. Aleximus smiled slightly. How gratifying to see! Aleximus walked over to the counter to pay for this night's stay. He would be leaving in the morning.

He could feel the other patron's eyes on his back as he swept out of the door. Out on the street a beggar across the road gaped. With a feeling of superiority in his heart the Necromancer made his way to the main road. From there he would catch a hansom to the restaurant.

****

He had arrived at last. Mirouet's Restaurant and Bar. Tucked into a side alley he had never been down on before. A lamp provided the only illumination on the road, for the clouds were obscuring the moons. A guard in white uniform stood at attention outside. At least, he looked like a guard, from his posture. Aleximus waited until the driver opened the door of the hansom for him. He flipped a gold sovereign behind him, which the driver caught, as he made his way up to the entrance. He didn't look back.

'Good evening Sir,' the man in white began. 'Do you have a reservation with us, or are you here on invitation?' Aleximus was quite surprised that you had to either reserve a spot or be _invited_ to eat here. 'I'm with a Mr Jack,' Aleximus replied, feeling rather embarrassed at not having been able to give his friend's last name. 'Ah! Of course! Mr Beckett is waiting for you inside. Please let me escort you.' With that the man bade Aleximus follow and pulled out a gold key. Aleximus was firther surprised. Just what sort of restaurant was this?

****

This time, it was Aleximus' turn to gape. The place was so beautiful! Plaster walls and roof in pastel blue, with white and gold pilasters on the walls. Delicate and spindly cornices in moulded plaster. Magnificent oil paintings depicting hunting scenes and wooden tables with porcelain statuettes and books. The tables were round, with delicate legs and a cream-coloured banquet cloth laid over it. Above flames burned in enamelled glass lamps hung from the roof and set in a spiral pattern.

Aleximus recovered relatively quickly though. He pretended to be only mildly interested in the decor, and carried himself regally past the tables of dining couples and clients. They turned to look at him pass, and Aleximus could sense the ones that were looking with their head turned the other way. Feeling smug, he enjoyed the sensation of being the belle of the ball, as it were.

He was being led constantly on. He had tried scanning the room but couldn't find Jack. 'Mr Jacob Maxwell is upstairs Sir, in one of the private rooms.' The escort informed him. Aleximus tried to appear cool. 'Of course.' He replied.

Looking down he noticed the floor was made of polished wood tiles, seemingly from some forest hardwood. The opulence was very reminiscent of his childhood home. Even the style of decoration was similar; pastel colours, fine materials, little decorative statuettes and glass lamps...Most importantly, the elaborate and complex designs, with their sinuous and graceful curves, like shells and round stones.

The upper floors were more select in their decor. It was a square lobby with four separate rooms. The walls were pastel pink with painted gold flourishes and smaller oil paintings. A smaller spiral of enamelled glass lamps shed light upon the scene.

'This is room four, Sir. Please have a seat.' The escort opened the door to reveal one Jack Beckett sitting at a banquet table, sipping white wine and poring over some papers. He looked up and beamed.

'Aleximus!' he cried, as though they were old friends. 'Please, sit down here, next to me!' The Necromancer obliged, and took delight in the young man's open admiration of his new clothes. 'It's beautiful...' he said. 'So is this restaurant. I've never seen anything like it.' Aleximus replied.

'Yes, Juliet doesn't like to draw attention to her restaurant. Every guest is here by invitation, and all are expected to make careful judgement about who they invite.' 'Why the secrecy?' Aleximus asked. 'To keep out the rich rabble. 'Jack replied. 'This restaurant isn't as expensive as some of those haughty Imperial ones at the Plaza, or in the Market District. Mirouet's is exclusively for people who want beauty, good food, and good company. It's like a secret circle, the customers here. Many people use this place to network, because of all the big-timers who like to eat here.' Jack smiled. 'Once you're invited, everyone here's a potential friend or customer, and as long as you follow the rules, you're in for life.'

Aleximus was speechless. It sounded too good to be true. And to think he had been judged worthy!

'I suspected you would be right on time.' Jack said suddenly. 'Which is why the time I gave you was about twenty minutes later than the one I gave my client. Who still isn't here.' he finished.

The man in the white uniform was gone, though now Aleximus noticed that the door was opened a crack. A man was waiting outside. Presumably that was the waiter who had been assigned to them. Aleximus quivered with excitement. To think he was in such a place, and that a waiter had been _assigned_ to their room...

'Waiter!' Jack said suddenly. The waiter opened the door. 'A glass of Tamika's Riesling for my friend.' The waiter bowed and swiftly disappeared. 'A sweet and dry white wine. Classic choice of pre-dinner drink.' Aleximus said teasingly. Jack smiled. 'Ah, a gentleman indeed!' he replied.

They soon fell into discussion over Aleximus' clothes, and eventually Aleximus remarked that Jack was still in suit and bowtie. 'Have to, old boy. Meeting a client after all. He's investing in the new silver mine outside Cheydinhal, and has stakes in quite a few mines in the county. Recent developments are likely to prove quite profitable for him.' Aleximus was about to ask him what he meant by that, when the door was opened again.

An Orcish gentleman, which Aleximus noticed was wearing the same green and gold garb Palonirya had pushed upon him the same afternoon, stepped through.

'Many apoplexies for being so fashionably delayered, cohorts!' he bellowed.

Aleximus wasn't quite sure to make of him. _What did he just say?_


	15. Chapter 15

The Orcish gentleman took the seat across Jack. Aleximus could only smile inanely in some half-stunned way. 'Please execute my belatedness, for my stage coach had struck a ditch in the cobble road, and the pheasant driver had much differentially in out-manoeuvring our party.' the Orc said, abusing his incompetent driver in a tone one would expect another to use to denounce a heretic. 'Oh of course,' Jack replied smoothly. 'It happens to the best of us.' Aleximus continued to smile. 'Verily it also explains how it happenstance that my apparatus be ruffled so!' the Orc continued, gesturing to his immaculate dress. Aleximus was starting to get the hint. 'Quite so, quite so, now for heaven's sake man, do take a seat! Such misfortune must surely have exhausted you!' Jack said emphatically.

The Orc made a sound of impotent irritation, the sigh of the noble having tried in vain to better the peasants under his watch, only to realise class stupidity was incurable. It was a sound not uncommon in the Elder Council Chambers, actually. He flopped into his seat and merely nodded when a waiter brought him a gin and soda water in a cut amber glass.

'Ah me! Where are my manners? Lord Rugdumph, this gentleman is Aleximus, a friend of mine.' Jack said. 'Well show! Good met! I am the Lord Rugdumph gro-Shurgak!' 'An honour.' Aleximus said simply, shaking the Orc's hand. 'You gentlemen are in for a treat tonight. There's an Akaviri theme to tonight's dinner.' Jack continued, nodding to the head discreetly waiting and watching through a crack in the door. The head disappeared, presumably off to bring in entrees.

The second waiter returned with a glass and a bottle of wine on a silver tray, and proceeded to pur out a glass for the Necromancer. Aleximus turned to Jack. The escort had named him as Jacob, and his surname had been given as Maxwell and Beckett. A slip on the part of the escort, or indication of his host's reticence to give out his real name, for whatever reason? Aleximus was not so bothered by this. He had dug up his fair share of corpses from church graveyards, raised zombies, skeletons and even Liches, and partaken in Necromantic rites the Empire had forbidden for the use on humanoids. Not having told Jack any of this he did not feel in a position to demand honesty from his host. In fact the intrigue added to the excitement of knowing him, and complemented his Imperial good looks. Yes, Aleximus thought, the young man _was_ quite handsome. And educated. And witty. Then he turned critically on himself. Rich and cultured, and alright-looking if by quite a bit past his prime. Alas, at his age...Back in the day he and the other young men had ruled the world, with money and taste and education all theirs. Aleximus had lost much, been _forced_ to lose much.

This tired old thing again, thought Aleximus. Wearily he reflected once more on all the things he had gained from his 'exile' to placate the sulking portion of his soul. A deeply satisfying knowledge and the acquaintance of some extraordinary people. Yes, he had to hide in darkness like all the rest of them, but at least he was accepted. The nobility would never accept you unless you were born one of them. Necromancers accepted you as one of them no matter who you were, and had been. This then was the difference, and what had moulded his life so. The path of least resistance. Some decisions he had made himself, it was true. He had decided to leave his entire country, if not his culture, behind. Other decisions had been made for him. He couldn't stay where he was and be happy in High Rock, and his potential future of prestige had been closed off to him.

But, he had his books, his experiments, the odd letter to an acquaintance, and his servants. Would it have been so very different back home?

The other two had been making some chit chat, and Aleximus suddenly felt conscious of being a poor dinner guest. He found a way to interject himself into the conversation (through a joke), and remembered to smile as he conversed with the Orc on trivialities he had no real interest in, like the latest musical sensation in Orsinium. Lady Go Gra, wasn't it? With _Poke Yer Face_?

A waiter opened the door slowly, politely ducking as he brought in a large plate full of buttery, flaky biscuits topped with cream cheese and olive halves and other such stuff. Purposely having only had a salad for lunch, Aleximus was quite peckish, and grateful for the respite from the inane colloquy on popular culture, he helped himself to one.

****

Author's Note:

I hate discussing the latest pop song with people during lunch. It's utterly meaningless. But I do like Lady Gaga! I know the joke's lame...To forgive is divine!

Also, if it isn't obvious by now, Aleximus _is_ homosexual. There won't be anything M-rated (I _did_ rate it T!).

I also apologise for all the teasing, the references to Aleximus' past life. Things will speed up very soon!

The style of the restaurant I based on Rococo, an 18th century French style. High Rock is France after all. Did anyone get the hint of 'rocks and shells' last chapter (lol)?


	16. Chapter 16

Biting into the entrees however, Jack's words of 'Akaviri theme' reasserted themselves upon his consciousness. For the cheese was no soft Camembert but a biting goat's cheese, and the biscuits were a dry, powdery confection that sucked all the moisture out of your mouth rather than the crumbly and flaky wafer sort which was custom. Strangely Aleximus liked them. Perhaps it was the novelty. At any rate the biscuits were quite compelling.

'They're not my usual choice of entree, but they're rather good.' Aleximus remarked. Lord Rugdumph assented garrulously. 'The cheese stimulates the appetite, and the biscuits are meant to make you thirsty,' Jack explained. Knowing noises and nodding heads. 'To prepare the guests for the main meal, which will come as a course of five side dishes to be eaten with rice. Oh I think you'll be quite surprised how delicious Akaviri food is.' The Necromancer and the noble were practically salivating. In fact one of them may well literally have been, Aleximus postulated cynically.

Soon after, a waiter entered bearing a tastefully ornate tea set. The hard white porcelain was smooth and cold and decorated with gold bands along the rims, azure symbols and dark blue plants. The tea pot was held by a cord of braided gold, Aleximus noted with surprise. The tea cups were small things, and the details of the decorations were minute. Glass-like they were manipulated until three cups of piping hot tea were beside each man's right hand and the tea pot positioned at arm's length away.

Now that that it was pressed upon the two men's minds that sustenance was indeed on its way Jack saw fit to turn the conversation towards business. 'Mr Rugdumph, I have here all the documents needed; the latest information on your account balance, your investment portfolio as well as a long list of investment prospects. In short, sixty thousand septims in interest has been added to your account, your investments in the mines around Chorrrol are up an amazing twenty four percent, your money in the private timber plantations of Bruma up a modest four percent, your stocks in North River Bank up three percent, and your stock in East Empire down one percent. Overall, an increase of five million, seven hundred and twenty six thousand septims.' Lord Rugdumph looked pensive. 'Would you like the rest now or after dinner?' The Orc looked hungry. 'I believe it would be egregious for us to presume our discourse post consumption, would say not you, Jack?' the estimable orator said. 'I wholeheartedly agree, sir.' Jack replied.

Desperately sipping very hot tea so as to avoid cracking a smile Aleximus didn't notice the young Imperial turn his gaze to him. 'Aleximus?' The Necromancer narrowly avoided scalding himself as he turned his head. 'Yes?' 'Have you ever played the market?' Jack's eyes sparkled as he spoke. Aleximus gulped and replied in the negative. His funds came from a source back home in High Rock, he revealed. His bank balance was very comfortable at close to three million septims. Jack arched his brows in surprise. 'Without any sort of investment?' he asked, incredulous. Aleximus smiled wryly. A near half-century of frugality and the generous interest rate of the Imperial Construction Bank had been quite sufficient to ensure that the money flowing into his account had accumulated steadily and created quite the fortune, far more than enough for his purposes at any rate. 'Well, I can think of a few ways you could grow that pile.' Jack said, out of Rugdumph's earshot, sounding positively and delightfully suggestive as he did so.

Aleximus smiled and leant closer. 'Do tell.'

A second round of tea was poured and the first dish brought out. In a sharply pointed bowl similar in general outline to an eye, bright leafy green vegetables in hot, brown oyster gravy were brought before them. The container was also hard white porcelain with gold and blue embellishment. White porcelain plates with moulded flowers of white rice were placed before each of them, and a waiter stood on hand to distribute the vegetables. Almost as soon as he was finished, the next dish was presented to them; a pile of tenderised venison chunks individually dipped in sweet, pale gold plum sauce. Eaten together the Necromancer found the taste delightful, and savoured the soft, sweet meat chunks especially.

Next up was a fish dish; a whole fried slaughterfish with cooked morning glory leaves on the side as the accompanying vegetable. The fish was brought out with a round of wine, which was a rich purple. 'That's blue lotus wine. They put blue water lily petals in their wine and leave it in a clay cask underground for a while.' Jack explained. 'Normally fish is had with white wine, of course,', Jack said. At this Lord Rugdumph spluttered, but rallied; his fellow diners were not to realise that he, well-raised Orcish gentleman, indeed took _red_ wine with fish! 'But slaughterfish has an almost meaty flavour. Besides which the wine is supposed to become quite mellow after the whole process. I guess the lilies must do something to the tannin.'

Aleximus savoured the exotic wine, and slyly noted that while the young banker refrained and seemed to prefer the tea, his client was inclined to indulge. Of course, while the average person might balk at such bald taking of advantage of an unrefined but wealthy mark, to someone who cut up cadavers with a bored resignation and who had grave robbing and kidnapping as corollaries to their occupation, this might perhaps not seem so much. Indeed, the Breton gent's conscience barely arched its brow, and even that one might suspect would be in curiosity rather than indictment.

Aleximus continued to play along with Jack and Rugdumph, and watched bemusedly as the Orc's drunken loosening of tongue resulted in less high-brow and thus, more comprehensible, speech. The ruthless and rather handsome banker was merciless, and the garrulous parvenu stood absolutely no chance in the debate concerning the mineral mines. After two hours Aleximus caught Jack signalling the waiter with a tiny nod of the head. The waiter nodded back, and returned some minutes later with a small celadon plate piled with what looked like almond-shaped macadamias. In the pleasant violet fog of the Akaviri wine, Aleximus reflected that he must buy some macadamias home before he left the city. 'Lotus fruit, my lords.' The waiter could not refrain from saying. Jack smiled, and in an odd way he overwhelming sense that this smile was genuine stabbed the Necromancer with a chilly half-doubt. Where his other smiles honest, then? 'No doubt you've both heard of these,' jack said, grandly. ''It is a great delicacy, and reserved for honoured guests in Akavir.' Aleximus, who by this time was somewhat under the power of wine, did not have the wit to wonder why it seemed the Akavir routinely drugged their guests.

Senselessly, Rugdumph and he both picked up one of the small, smooth seed-like objects. Aleximus popped it into his mouth. Jack took one as well, after being satisfied that Rugdumph was enthusiastically munching on his. His notebook and pen were put away in his valise. The Necromancer bit into it, and noted the fibrous texture and moist 'flesh' of what seemed to blur the line between fruit and seed. The moisture released was a pleasing smooth substance, and the flesh tasted like macadamia nuts, being sweet and milky as well. The obscuring cloud of alcohol was gently put aside in favour of a soothing mist that did not threaten one with being overpowered, but seduced by its gentleness. Absent-mindedly, Aleximus popped another in his mouth. Less than a minute later, he finished that one as well, and picked up another. Lord Rugdumph was wolfing down his, and picked them up three at a time to pop in his mouth immediately after finishing the last one. Neither was in any state to notice what their fellow diners were doing, or not doing.

Eventually, the plate was emptied. After some impassioned insistence on generosity, Jack at last yielded to his honoured client, and allowed Lord Rugdumph to foot the bill for this most enjoyable meal. Waving goodbye as the Orc stepped into the waiting carriage on the raod near the restaurant entrance, Jack turned smilingly to Aleximus and led him on foot, complimenting him on his most marvellous outfit. The waiter bowed behind them as they left, and returned to his post at the door.


	17. More Than Digestifs

Jack led Aleximus on down the road., which, like all the stone buildings of the Imperial City, was coloured dark blue by the night. Torches and lamps made pools of orange light, so that the Necromancer was vaguely aware that he was perceiving alternations of colour as he walked. Jack was holding up an arm, and smiling in a different way to the Breton. Finally, Jack led Aleximus down a garden-girdled path and sat them down on a park bench of wrought bronze. There were pools of torchlight a little way on either side, but the pair were more or less in the blue semi-darkness of moderately late night. A piece of Aleximus' mind was dismayed that for all his knowledge of anatomy and Restoration he did not possess a spell to dissipate drunkenness, for at this rate the Necromancer was looking like he would be hung over something fierce.

Fortuitously, Jack began to speak on the very subject. 'Don't worry, Alex. Lotus is perfectly safe- you can't overdose. Funny thing about the wine is the way it's prepared helps with eating the fruit. That pink cloud won't last for more than an hour.' The last part was spoken particularly archly. With that, Jack settled himself on the bench and closed his eyes, resting to the sounds of insects among the plants. Aleximus was still smiling serenely, and continued to float around in his head, occasionally giving a quick little turn of his head and laughing at the way the universe seemed to lurch in that direction.

Max was bored. The issue of the young Imperial battlemage- for that was surely what he was, what with wearing Imperial Legionnaire armour, and casting fireballs and such- was thorny, but it would be Aleximus' problem in short order. After imprisoning the boy and personally watching him swallow his dinner, the lich had been left with little to do. He could open the letter that had been sent to Aleximus via courier, but that would only be in nosiness. Letters were quite common, and were either enquiries on his master's work, very politely worded requests for sponsorship, or the ramblings of acquaintances, which were the most tedious of all. He read a bit in the study, turning the pages with telekinesis so as to avoid staining them, and was disheartened, for most of the books were pretty heavy reading. The books on Necromancy held no fascination for one who was already undead, and a mage in his pervious life to boot, unless you were morbidly curious as to what exactly the ritual circles had looked like, or wished to ponder if your grave's plunderer had pulled out the nails of your coffin or went at the wood with the shovel directly. In fact the only interesting thing which came of reading the various books on Necromancy was the insight into Aleximus' mind regarding the handbook he was writing- such a tome, were it broad and coherent enough, would be a useful one indeed, because it would consolidate otherwise disparate pieces of information and advice. The moral aspect of trying to perfect the process of training new Necromancers did not much concern Max.

Max finally decided that since the veritable prison riot wouldn't look too good on his record, and Aleximus would probably be too horrified that he had kidnapped a battlemage (oh, how Max did look forward to telling him), then the least he could do was ensure all the other subjects for his master's research on vampirism were in good condition. He had one last look over the small library to ensure that the books were in order, and opened the door of the study to the corridor of cells.

Aleximus opened his eyes, and wondered where he was until his brain caught up. Jack was awake, and at the far end of the bench. Jack grinned on meeting Aleximus' eye. 'They've got good food and drink, haven't they? It's like the Bretons. The Empire has culture, but not the cooks.' Aleximus was beginning to rally, at least enough to give a reply. 'They have culture, but not cuisine. It is my position that Imperial food has not advanced beyond what you can get in an inn.' Jack did not say anything, only smiled. 'But tell me, Jack, surely you can't do this with all your clients?' Jack laughed then. 'Rugdumph is one of the only ones. He wouldn't complain or make a fuss, and is a good sport that way. Lovely house, loyal customer, and bags and bags of gold.'

Aleximus began to colour, for Jack was being very open with him, and after all they were seated on a bench at twilight in a small garden. Surely this wasn't another way Jack entertained clients of his bank? Hadn't he, Aleximus, given away that he had a lot of gold, enough to invest, anyway, at the start of dinner? Jack had also noticed his fine clothing! Such thoughts raced through Aleximus' mind. Jack noticed him puzzling and said breezily, ' And in case you're wondering, yes, I _have _tricked you out of your inheritance. You signed it over after dessert.'

There was a moment of utter silence. A breeze ruffled the bushes across the bench. Aleximus was considering: fire, ice, or lightning? Jack's façade cracked, and he burst out laughing.

The Breton blinked before joining in the laughter, though his heart was still beating quickly. It had been a near thing, after all. 'In all seriousness though, I do have a proposition.' Jack said. Aleximus arched his brow. 'Switch from Imperial Construction to our bank in Cheydinhal?' Jack looked off to the side, but smiled wickedly. 'Actually, I was thinking switching from this bench in Elven Gardens to my suite at All Saints' Inn'. 'Oh…_Oh_.'Aleximus definitely coloured this time. Jack chuckled lowly. 'I'm not always a gentleman…don't worry about it, though. Plenty walk into my little café. Just thought I'd give it a shot, you know.' Aleximus tilted his head and gave a superior little smile. 'I haven't said no, you know. All the same, I think I'll milk the Tiber Septim hotel for all it's worth'. 'Ha! The Tiber Septim? No wonder then- I'd have chosen the same. It's a lot of gold to be leaving the bed empty. All the same, here's my card. Mail me?' he said with a smile. Aleximus promised to do so; no, no, he exchanged plenty of mail with his associates, it would be no trouble.

The two of them stood up and prepared to take their leave of each other when Aleximus did some quick calculation. 'Actually,' he said abruptly, just as Jack turned to walk away, 'why don't you join me at the Tiber Septim for some drinks?' Jack turned to face him, grinning. Aleximus hoped his blushing would not be visible in the dark blue of city night. 'They have an open bar after dinner; we could take some brandy up to the study'. Or to my suite, the back of Aleximus' mind said, sniggering. 'That does sound nice. I'd love to. Very proper of you, taking brandy in a private room with your guest after a good dinner.' Jack said this pleasantly, though Aleximus wondered if the young banker was being glibly ironic. Surely he knew that what Aleximus was proposing entailed things which would be highly improper indeed?

Max inspected each captive with placid leisure. The tags on the cells reflected that all of them had been on a treatment of mild poisons, which reduced them to a state of lethargy. Those among them with any significant spellcasting ability had to be given additional poisons to restrict their capacity for magic. Silence poisons, the most expensive and difficult to make, were reserved for the couple of hedge wizards that had been brought in chains to the fort by the good men of the Blackwood Company. Max had also seen to it that the young battlemage's gruel had been laced with the same.

The tags also revealed that most of the captives had been intentionally infected with a more magickal disease. Astral vapours and vampirism were the most common. Most of Aleximus' research was connected in finding a way to allay the symptoms, if not actually cure, vampirism. To Max's knowledge, however, while Aleximus was practically an expert in porphyric haemophilia after such protracted study of how it might be transferred, and how it progressed through its stages both in gestation and in full vampirism, the necromancer had run into many dead ends with regard to finding a cure for the state of vampirism. Frustratingly for Aleximus, access to the Arcane University, the one place which might have given him any new leads, was out of the question, and Caranya was unapproachable.

Caranya…Max pondered a moment. Hadn't Aleximus mentioned that he would be doing something for her? It was probably nothing, though. Caranya would never risk her position at the University; it was how the Order of the Black Worm stayed ahead of the authorities. Besides, Aleximus could never have refused her.

Max looked at his hand. The flesh was a light brown and bloated, the skin papery. The horror had long since worn off. How strange was lichdom. Wasn't it every necromancer's dream of becoming some sort of lich? Not what he was, though; one that would never rot or decay: able to live and wield magic forever. Was that what drove the wealthy Breton, with his time clearly running out? Certainly mages tended live longer if they were careful; but to truly cheat death one had to turn to higher powers. Conjurors and daedra-traffickers might seek earthly might, but what motivated a necromancers? The black chill of terror? Max felt a strange scorn; he had already passed through the eye of the needle and back. Did he see Aetherius? Oblivion? The Soul Cairn? He could not remember anything. He had closed his eyes in his bed and woken up on a stone slab. His memories were retained, but his raw magical power, if anything, was increased. It had been a pleasing discovery.

His eyes raked the row of cells. Cowering bandits and criminals huddled in corners to get away from him. They would all surely perish. Who knows? The hedge mages might be brought back as liches, though Aleximus seemed to have more than enough for his purposes. They would be the lucky ones; they would retain intelligence and magical power. The rest of them, if brought back, would be mere zombies. Leashed by Aleximus' practised magic, and set to manual work. Still, would it not be better than oblivion? He, Maximillian, would forever be grateful for his gift of immortality. He hoped that if Aleximus were somehow trying to wrest the secret of eternal life between the fascinating but wasteful research, he would be successful.

Author's note

Stuff's going down in the next chapter :P


End file.
